Chapter 5 - Sixty Percent
Nia drove to Renee’s house during lunch.
She did not tell Denise.
For the first time in her life, secrecy felt less like dishonesty and more like oxygen.
Renee lived in a narrow brick townhouse in Catonsville filled with plants and old jazz records.
She hugged Nia for a long time.
“You look thin.”
“I’m fine.”
Renee gave her a look.
Nia almost laughed.
Apparently she had inherited that particular lie from the entire family.
Renee made coffee.
Then she placed a cardboard banker’s box on the dining table.
“What is that?”
“My cowardice.”
Nia frowned.
Renee sat down.
“I kept things.”
“Why?”
“Because I knew someday Denise would rewrite history.”
Inside were copies of Lillian Carter’s estate documents.
Not originals.
But enough.
The trust agreement dated 2012 divided Carter Community Services equally between Denise and her two children.
The 2020 amendment changed everything.
Sixty percent to Nia.
Twenty to Denise.
Twenty to Andre.
Nia read the paragraph repeatedly.
“Why?”
Renee smiled sadly.
“Because your grandmother trusted you.”
“That’s not a reason to cut Andre’s share.”
“He was taking money.”
Nia looked up.
“How much?”
“At first? Small things.”
Gas charged to the company.
Trips.
A vehicle.
“Grandma knew?”
“She knew enough.”
“Did Mom?”
“Your mother protected him.”
The sentence was unsurprising.
That made it hurt worse.
Andre had always been Denise’s golden child.
Football captain.
Business degree.
Firstborn son.
Whenever he failed, Denise called it pressure.
Whenever Nia struggled, Denise called it poor planning.
Renee continued.
“Lillian believed Andre would bankrupt the company eventually. She wanted you controlling the voting interest.”
“I was twenty-six.”
“You were already running payroll, compliance and billing.”
“I wasn’t president.”
“You were doing half the president’s job.”
Nia looked down.
Something inside her life was rearranging itself.
“What happened after Grandma died?”
“Denise produced the old trust.”
“And you said nothing?”
Renee’s eyes filled.
“I asked her about the amendment.”
“What did she say?”
“That Lillian destroyed it.”
“Did you believe her?”
“For about three minutes.”
Nia stood.
“You knew.”
“I suspected.”
“For six years.”
“Yes.”
“And you let me work there for a salary while they owned my company.”
Renee looked ashamed.
“I had no original.”
“You had this!”
“A copy would have started a war.”
“You mean a war you didn’t want to fight.”
Renee flinched.
Nia grabbed her purse.
“Nia.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“My son thinks I’m hungry because I’m careless.”
Renee stared.
Nia’s voice shook.
“He made me breakfast yesterday because he noticed I wasn’t eating.”
“Nia—”
“I’ve been skipping meals because my paycheck is late, my mortgage escrow increased, Micah needs after-school care, and I keep helping the company survive.”
Tears filled her eyes now.
“The company I apparently own.”
Renee covered her mouth.
Nia continued.
“My mother borrowed against my house.”
Renee went still.
“What?”
Nia told her.
The loan.
The power of attorney.
The payments.
Denise searching the cedar chest.
Renee sank into a chair.
“Oh, Denise.”
“You know something else.”
Renee looked at her.
“Tell me.”
Renee hesitated.
Nia slammed one hand on the table.
“Tell me!”
Renee stood too.
“Your grandmother kept the original amendment in a safe-deposit box.”
Nia froze.
“What bank?”
“Harbor National.”
“Where’s the key?”
“I don’t know.”
“Mom has it.”
“Maybe.”
Nia remembered Micah.
The gold key.
“Last Thursday Mom used a gold key to open the cedar chest.”
Renee’s eyes widened.
“That wasn’t for the chest.”
“What?”
“The chest had a tiny brass key.”
Nia’s pulse accelerated.
“The gold key?”
Renee whispered:
“Harbor National used gold-headed safe-deposit keys.”
They stared at each other.
Denise had not been searching for the amendment.
She had been searching for access to the place where the original might still exist.
Nia grabbed her phone.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling the bank.”
“It may not be that simple.”
It wasn’t.
The bank confirmed Lillian had held a safe-deposit box, but because she was deceased they could discuss access only with the trust’s current authorized representative or personal representative of the estate.
According to their records, that person was Denise.
Nia ended the call.
“She can open it.”
Renee nodded.
“If the box still exists.”
Nia looked at her.
“What do you mean?”
“Denise may already have emptied it.”
Nia thought of last Thursday.
The gold key.
Her mother searching the cedar chest.
No.
If Denise had already emptied it, she would not need the key.
That meant the box was probably still there.
And whatever Lillian had placed inside had frightened Denise enough to enter Nia’s home secretly.
Nia called Marcus.
“I know what she was looking for.”
“What?”
“A safe-deposit key.”
Marcus was quiet.
Then:
“Don’t go to the bank alone.”
“Why?”
“Because if Denise knows you found the default notice, she knows you’re looking.”
“I’m not afraid of my mother.”
Marcus’s answer came immediately.
“That’s not what worries me.”
“What does?”
“That you still underestimate her.”
Before Nia could answer, another call appeared.
Andre.
She ignored it.
He called again.
Then a text arrived.
WE NEED TO TALK BEFORE MOM DOES SOMETHING STUPID.
Nia stared at the screen.
A second message followed.
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SHE’S GOING TO THE BANK.
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