Chapter 4 - THE SECRET BRANDON NEVER KNEW
Gertrude did not answer.
She simply walked out of the kitchen.
Brandon followed her.
“Mom.”
She kept walking.
“Mom, stop.”
She reached the stairs.
He grabbed her wrist.
Not violently.
Just enough to stop her.
She turned.
“Let go of me.”
“What were you doing with Natalie's accounts?”
“Nothing.”
“You just said the document wasn't supposed to exist.”
“I was talking about the trust.”
“Why would you know about it?”
Gertrude's eyes flickered.
Brandon released her.
I watched from the kitchen doorway.
He looked toward me.
“Natalie, I didn't know.”
“I believe you.”
That seemed to hurt him more than if I had accused him.
“You believe me?”
“Yes.”
“Then why are you looking at me like that?”
“Because believing you didn't know doesn't erase what happened.”
He lowered his head.
“I know.”
“No, Brandon.”
My voice softened.
“You don't.”
He looked up.
“You gave your mother a key yesterday.”
He said nothing.
“She knew about my inheritance.”
Still nothing.
“She was searching my desk.”
“I know.”
“She threw keys at my face.”
His jaw tightened.
“I know.”
“And you still gave her access.”
He closed his eyes.
“I thought I could fix it.”
“How?”
“I thought if she had the key, she'd calm down.”
I almost smiled.
“That is exactly the problem.”
He looked confused.
“You keep thinking the solution is making your mother happy.”
I stepped closer.
“You never ask what would make me feel safe.”
He didn't respond.
Gertrude returned to the kitchen holding a folder.
She placed it on the table.
“Enough.”
I looked at her.
She opened the folder.
Inside were bank statements.
My bank statements.
My hands went cold.
“Where did you get those?”
She looked at Brandon.
“I was trying to protect the family.”
“What family?”
“Our family.”
“This money isn't yours.”
“It affects Brandon.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“It doesn't.”
Gertrude laughed bitterly.
“You married him.”
“Yes.”
“That makes his future your future.”
“My money remains my money.”
Brandon looked at his mother.
“Mom, what did you do?”
She pointed at the papers.
“I discovered that Natalie has been sitting on an enormous amount of money while you work yourself exhausted.”
I looked at Brandon.
“I never told her how much I had.”
“She found out.”
“How?”
Gertrude didn't answer.
I did.
“You accessed my records.”
Her silence was confirmation.
Brandon stared at his mother.
“You went through her financial records?”
“I was trying to understand what she was hiding.”
“I wasn't hiding anything.”
“You were.”
“No.”
Gertrude slammed her hand on the table.
“You were protecting yourself from your husband!”
The words echoed through the kitchen.
Brandon froze.
I froze.
Gertrude seemed to realize she had said too much.
I looked at Brandon.
“What does she mean?”
He turned toward his mother.
“Mom.”
Gertrude looked away.
“What were you planning?”
She remained silent.
Brandon took the folder.
He flipped through the papers.
Then stopped.
“This isn't just bank statements.”
I stepped closer.
“What?”
He pulled out another document.
A loan application.
My name was printed on it.
My signature appeared at the bottom.
But I had never signed it.
Brandon stared at the page.
“This is a mortgage application.”
I felt the room spin.
“For what?”
He turned the page.
A property address appeared.
I recognized it.
It was a lake house in Virginia.
The same property Gertrude had been talking about buying for months.
I looked at her.
“You used my identity.”
“No.”
“The signature is forged.”
“I had permission.”
“From whom?”
She didn't answer.
Brandon's face had gone white.
“Mom.”
She finally looked at him.
“I was going to make sure you had something.”
“You used Natalie's name.”
“I was going to pay it back.”
“With what?”
She said nothing.
Brandon looked at me.
“I swear I didn't know.”
“I believe you.”
He looked relieved for half a second.
Then I continued.
“But I can't stay here tonight.”
His expression collapsed.
“Natalie.”
“I need space.”
“I'll come with you.”
“No.”
He stopped.
“I need you to stay here.”
“With Mom?”
“No.”
I looked directly at Gertrude.
“With the consequences of the choices you made.”
Gertrude laughed.
“You think you're going to destroy this family over paperwork?”
I picked up my purse.
“No.”
I looked at Brandon.
“Your mother did that when she decided my home, my money, and my privacy belonged to her.”
I walked out.
But before I reached the front door, Brandon spoke.
“Natalie.”
I turned.
He stood in the middle of the kitchen.
“I'll fix this.”
I shook my head.
“That is what you've always said.”
Then I left.
I stayed at a hotel that night.
At 2:14 a.m., my phone rang.
Brandon.
I answered.
“What happened?”
His breathing sounded uneven.
“Mom is gone.”
My heart tightened.
“What?”
“She left.”
“Where?”
“I don't know.”
“Did she take anything?”
A pause.
Then he said,
“Your grandmother's documents.”
I sat upright.
“What?”
“The trust papers.”
My stomach dropped.
“Brandon, listen carefully.”
“I know.”
“No. You don't.”
I grabbed my shoes.
“If she has those documents, she may have evidence.”
“I know.”
“Where are you?”
“At the house.”
“Don't leave.”
“Why?”
“Because if she comes back, I want everything documented.”
He was silent.
Then he whispered,
“Natalie.”
“What?”
“There is something else.”
“What?”
“I found a locked box in Mom's room.”
My heart began pounding.
“What was inside?”
“I haven't opened it.”
“Don't.”
Another silence.
Then he said,
“I think you should be here when I do.”
I stared into the darkness.
For the first time since I left home, I felt something other than fear.
Hope.
May you like
Because maybe, finally, Brandon was beginning to understand that the truth was more important than keeping his mother comfortable.
And whatever was inside that box might explain everything.
