Chapter 13 - Denise Knew Something Was Wrong
The voicemail was forty-eight seconds long.
Andre played it.
Denise Reed’s voice filled the apartment.
“Tasha, baby, I need you to stop calling me every time Malcolm talks about work. That boy is thirty years old. If he wants advice, he’ll ask me.”
Malcolm stopped breathing.
Denise continued.
“And I don’t understand this Houston thing. He acts like he doesn’t know what I’m talking about. Either you two aren’t communicating, or somebody isn’t telling the truth.”
A pause.
“Whatever is happening, don’t use me to pressure my son. I love you, but I won’t do that.”
The recording ended.
Malcolm stared at the phone.
Andre whispered, “Mom knew.”
Malcolm replayed it.
Then again.
Each time, the words changed something inside him.
For days Malcolm had believed Tasha had permanently poisoned his mother against him.
But Denise had questioned the story.
She had noticed contradictions.
She had drawn a boundary.
Malcolm laughed suddenly.
It came out half sob.
Andre looked at him.
“What?”
“That sounds exactly like her.”
Andre smiled painfully.
“Yeah.”
Malcolm covered his face.
For the first time since discovering Tasha’s manipulation, a stolen memory came back.
Not perfectly.
But enough.
His mother had not died believing he was reckless.
She had seen something wrong.
She had defended his right to choose.
Malcolm cried.
Andre stayed beside him without speaking.
Eventually Malcolm wiped his face.
“Why wasn’t this sent?”
“It’s in drafts.”
“Maybe she recorded it and decided to call instead.”
“Could be.”
“Did Tasha ever mention Mom confronting her?”
“No.”
Malcolm’s expression hardened.
“She told me Mom agreed with her.”
Andre nodded.
“She lied.”
The next morning Malcolm asked Tasha directly.
They spoke by phone.
“Did my mother tell you to stop calling her about me?”
Silence.
Malcolm closed his eyes.
“She did.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Before her diagnosis.”
“Why did you never tell me?”
“I was embarrassed.”
“You kept telling me she thought I needed to slow down.”
“She did sometimes.”
“After telling you to stop manipulating her.”
Tasha began crying.
“I didn’t know she used that word.”
“She said, ‘Don’t use me to pressure my son.’”
“She misunderstood.”
Malcolm laughed.
“No. She understood perfectly.”
Tasha said nothing.
Malcolm looked out Andre’s window.
“I’ve spent days thinking you ruined my last year with her.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You hurt it.”
Her breathing trembled.
“But you didn’t own it.”
“I never said I did.”
“I thought you did.”
He wiped his face.
“And I almost gave you that too.”
“What?”
“The power to rewrite her.”
Tasha went silent.
Malcolm continued.
“My mother knew me better than you thought.”
“I loved her.”
“You keep confusing love with permission.”
Tasha began to respond.
Malcolm stopped her.
“I have another question.”
“Okay.”
“Did you ever contact Marcus Hale?”
“No.”
“Think carefully.”
“I never contacted him directly.”
“Indirectly?”
“I emailed his office once.”
Malcolm’s stomach tightened.
“Why?”
“To ask whether he knew about opportunities outside the state.”
“Under your name?”
“No.”
“Mine?”
“No.”
“What name?”
Tasha hesitated.
“Your mother’s.”
Malcolm went cold.
“You impersonated my mother?”
“One email.”
“You used a dead woman’s identity?”
“She was alive then.”
The answer was so astonishingly defensive that Malcolm could not speak.
Tasha realized it immediately.
“Oh God. That sounded horrible.”
“It sounded accurate.”
“I was trying to find out whether Marcus was pushing you to leave.”
“So you pretended to be Mom.”
“Yes.”
“What did you write?”
“I said I was worried about you relocating.”
“Did Marcus respond?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“That he believed you had leadership potential and shouldn’t limit yourself geographically.”
Malcolm almost smiled.
Of course Marcus had said that.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
Malcolm did not trust the answer.
After ending the call, he contacted Marcus.
Marcus remembered the email.
“I thought it was strange.”
“Why?”
“Your mom had met me before.”
Malcolm frowned.
“When?”
“At the company picnic.”
He vaguely remembered.
Marcus continued.
“She was proud as hell of you. Didn’t sound like the type to ask me to stop recommending you.”
“What did you do?”
“I called her.”
Malcolm’s heart jumped.
“You called my mother?”
“Yeah.”
“What did she say?”
Marcus went quiet.
“She said she never emailed me.”
Malcolm stood.
“What happened after that?”
“She asked me not to confront anybody.”
“Why?”
“She said she wanted to talk to you herself.”
Malcolm’s chest tightened.
“Did she?”
“I don’t know.”
“When was this?”
Marcus gave him the date.
Malcolm checked his calendar.
Three days later, Denise had been hospitalized after severe abdominal pain.
The cancer diagnosis came soon afterward.
The conversation might never have happened.
But his mother had known someone was impersonating her.
“Did she say who she suspected?”
“No.”
“Anything else?”
Marcus hesitated.
“She asked me to save the email.”
“Do you still have it?”
“I might.”
An hour later, Marcus forwarded it.
The fake message came from an address similar to Denise’s real account.
But not identical.
Malcolm checked the recovery information through old browser records stored on Tasha’s iPad.
He found the account.
Created from the apartment.
Recovery email:
Tasha’s.
There was no ambiguity left.
Malcolm added the evidence to his folder.
Then another message from Bellweather arrived.
Malcolm, please call when available.
His heart hammered.
He called Elena.
“Hi.”
“Malcolm.”
Her voice was warm.
“I wanted to reach you before HR sends the formal paperwork.”
He stood.
Andre looked up from across the room.
Elena continued.
“The team would like to offer you the position.”
Malcolm shut his eyes.
For several seconds, he could not speak.
“Malcolm?”
“I’m here.”
“Base salary is one hundred four thousand. There is a six-thousand signing bonus and eligibility for annual performance incentive.”
Andre was watching him now.
Malcolm smiled.
A real smile.
His first in days.
“I accept.”
Elena laughed softly.
“I thought you might.”
Malcolm thanked her.
They discussed start dates.
After the call ended, Andre stood.
“You got it?”
Malcolm nodded.
Andre shouted and pulled him into a hug.
For thirty seconds, the apartment filled with celebration.
Then Malcolm’s phone rang.
Tasha.
He looked at it.
Andre stopped smiling.
“You telling her?”
Malcolm stared at her name.
The job she had tried to erase was now his.
And for the first time since the nightmare began, Malcolm understood that telling Tasha was not the same thing as asking Tasha.
He declined the call.
Then he opened the offer letter.
At the bottom was a digital signature box.
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For years, other people had made decisions under his name.
Malcolm signed this one himself.
