Chapter 2: The Real Reason
I stared at Simone.
“What land?””
Her expression told me I should already know.
Then I remembered.
Amara's grandfather—Simone's father—had died when Amara was seventeen.
Arthur Jackson had been the kind of man who never talked about money.
He wore work boots until the soles separated.
Drove the same pickup for twenty-two years.
Fixed appliances instead of replacing them.
When he died, everyone assumed he'd left behind his small house, a modest savings account, and a collection of fishing rods nobody knew what to do with.
But there had been land.
Forty-three acres outside the city.
Mostly wooded.
Arthur had inherited it from his own father.
At the time, nobody considered it valuable.
He left it directly to Amara.
I remembered driving her to the attorney's office after the funeral.
She'd been seventeen, grieving, barely listening.
“What am I supposed to do with forty-three acres of trees?”” she'd asked afterward.
“Nothing.””
“Nothing?””
“Your grandfather wanted you to have it. So keep it until you know.””
She did.
Then life moved on.
College.
Her first apartment.
Her career.
Caleb.
The land became something mentioned once every few years when property taxes arrived.
I looked at Simone.
“Why would Marcus care about that?””
“I didn't know.””
“Didn't?””
She stood.
“Last month, I called Dad's old attorney.””
My pulse quickened.
“Why?””
“Because Marcus asking about it bothered me.””
“And?””
“He referred me to someone who handles commercial development.””
I waited.
Simone took a breath.
“A technology company has been buying property near that area.””
“How near?””
“Very.””
I stood slowly.
“How much is Amara's land worth?””
“Potentially?””
“Yes.””
She looked sick.
“Several million.””
I actually laughed.
Not because it was funny.
Because sometimes the brain makes the wrong sound when reality becomes too large.
“Several million dollars?””
“Maybe more if the development continues.””
“And Marcus knows?””
“I think so.””
“Why?””
“That's what scares me.””
I grabbed my phone.
“We need to tell Amara.””
Simone caught my wrist.
“No.””
I looked at her.
“What?””
“If you tell her now, right after she chose Marcus to walk her down the aisle, what will it sound like?””
“The truth.””
“It will sound like we're trying to destroy him because you're hurt.””
“I am hurt.””
“I know.””
“But this isn't about me.””
“I know that too.””
“Then why wait?””
“Because we need proof.””
I hated that she was right.
Amara was vulnerable where Marcus was concerned.
She wanted her father back.
Not me.
Her father.
There was a difference I had spent years pretending didn't matter.
That evening, I drove to Arthur's property.
I hadn't been there since we'd scattered part of his ashes beside the creek.
The place looked different.
Not the land itself.
The road.
New utility markings had appeared along the shoulder.
Survey stakes stood near neighboring parcels.
A development notice had been posted half a mile away.
Simone hadn't exaggerated.
Something was coming.
I parked near the old gate.
As I stepped out, I noticed tire tracks in the mud.
Fresh.
The chain around the gate had been moved.
I walked deeper onto the property.
About two hundred yards in, I found a man wearing a reflective vest measuring near the tree line.
“Can I help you?””
He turned.
“I'm with the survey crew.””
“For whom?””
He named a development company I'd never heard of.
“This is private property.””
“We have authorization.””
“No, you don't.””
He frowned.
Then reached into his truck and produced a photocopy.
At the bottom was a signature.
Amara Jackson.
My stomach dropped.
“Where did you get this?””
“Our office.””
“Who gave it to you?””
“You'll have to speak with the project manager.””
I photographed the document.
Then I called Amara.
She answered immediately.
“Hey.””
“Have you authorized anyone to survey Grandpa Arthur's land?””
Silence.
“What?””
“Have you signed anything?””
“No.””
“Anything Marcus gave you?””
Another pause.
“Why are you asking?””
My jaw tightened.
“Just answer me.””
“David, you're being weird.””
“Amara.””
“No. I haven't signed anything about Grandpa's property.””
I looked at the paper again.
The signature looked close enough to fool someone who didn't know her handwriting.
“Okay.””
“What happened?””
“I'll explain later.””
“David.””
“Trust me.””
The words left my mouth before I could stop them.
Silence.
Then she said, “That's exactly what Marcus says.””
That hurt more than it should have.
“I'll call you later.””
I ended the call.
The surveyor watched me.
“Problem?””
“Yeah.””
I photographed his company truck.
“There is now.””
The next morning, I met with an attorney named Evelyn Brooks.
She examined the photograph.
“This doesn't transfer ownership,” she said.
“It's only an authorization for preliminary access.””
“But Amara didn't sign it.””
“Then someone may have forged her signature.””
“Can you prove that?””
“Not from a photograph.””
“What do we need?””
“The original document. Emails. Submission records. Anything connecting it to whoever provided it.””
I leaned forward.
“Could someone sell the property without Amara knowing?””
“Not legally.””
“That's not what I asked.””
Evelyn studied me.
“With sufficient fraud, someone could try.””
My phone rang.
Amara.
I answered.
“Hey.””
Her voice was cold.
“Did you hire a lawyer?””
I looked at Evelyn.
“How do you know?””
“Marcus told me.””
Every muscle in my body tightened.
“How does Marcus know?””
“He said someone from the development company called him.””
“Why would they call Marcus?””
Silence.
There it was.
The question Amara hadn't asked until that moment.
“I don't know.””
“Ask him.””
“David, what is happening?””
I closed my eyes.
“We need to talk in person.””
“No. Tell me now.””
So I did.
I told her about Simone's conversation with Marcus.
The development.
The survey.
The forged signature.
When I finished, she said nothing.
Then she whispered, “You're doing this because of the wedding.””
My chest tightened.
“What?””
“He warned me you'd react badly.””
I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
“He warned you?””
“He said you might feel replaced.””
“Amara, somebody forged your signature.””
“You don't know that Marcus did it.””
“I didn't say he did.””
“You're implying it.””
“I'm telling you facts.””
She started crying.
“I finally have a chance to know my father, and suddenly everyone is telling me he's dangerous.””
“I'm not telling you he's dangerous.””
“What are you telling me?””
“That something isn't right.””
She hung up.
I sat staring at the phone.
Evelyn waited.
Finally she said, “This Marcus—what does he do?””
“I don't know exactly. Consulting. Investments. Something like that.””
“Find out.””
I looked at her.
“Legally.””
“Obviously.””
Her expression suggested she'd met desperate fathers before.
I went home.
Simone was waiting.
“How did it go?””
“Badly.””
I told her.
She closed her eyes.
“I knew this would happen.””
Then the doorbell rang.
Marcus stood outside.
Alone.
I opened the door but didn't invite him in.
“You've been busy,” he said.
“So have you.””
He smiled.
“I think we should talk.””
“I think you should leave.””
“Amara's upset.””
“Because somebody forged her signature.””
His smile faded.
“Careful.””
That one word changed everything.
Not defensive.
Not confused.
A warning.
I stepped outside and closed the door behind me.
“You know something.””
“I know you're digging into things that don't concern you.””
“Anything involving Amara concerns me.””
“She's not your daughter.””
The sentence landed exactly where he intended.
I stared at him.
Marcus stepped closer.
“You've had eighteen years, David.””
“Raising her wasn't temporary custody.””
“No. You played your role.””
“My role?””
“The dependable stepfather. The safe guy. Congratulations.””
I felt anger rising.
I kept my hands at my sides.
“What do you want?””
“To reconnect with my daughter.””
“Try again.””
His eyes hardened.
“You really want the truth?””
“Yes.””
“I want you to stop interfering.””
“With the property?””
“With everything.””
“Why?””
“Because Amara is an adult.””
“Then why are you forging her signature?””
For the first time, Marcus looked genuinely surprised.
It lasted half a second.
But I saw it.
“I don't know what you're talking about.””
“Good. Then you won't mind if the police investigate.””
He smiled again.
“Go ahead.””
Then he turned.
Halfway down the driveway, he stopped.
“Oh, David?””
I didn't answer.
“Ask Simone why Arthur really put that property in Amara's name.””
He got into his car.
I watched him leave.
Then I walked inside.
Simone stood in the living room.
She had heard everything.
I could see it on her face.
“What did he mean?””
She didn't answer.
“Simone.””
Her eyes filled with tears.
“My father didn't just leave Amara the land.””
“What else?””
She sat down.
“There was a trust.””
I felt the room tilt.
“What trust?””
“Dad created it shortly before he died.””
“For Amara?””
She nodded.
“How much?””
“I don't know what it's worth now.””
“Simone.””
“David, I swear.””
“How much was in it then?””
“Almost two million dollars.””
I stared at her.
“You never told me.””
“Dad made me promise.””
“Why?””
“Because Amara couldn't access it until she turned twenty-five.””
Amara was twenty-three.
“When she turns twenty-five, she gets the money?””
“Not automatically.””
“What does that mean?””
Simone looked toward the window as if Marcus might somehow be standing outside.
“There are conditions.””
“What conditions?””
“One involves marriage.””
My stomach dropped.
“What does marriage have to do with it?””
Before Simone could answer, my phone buzzed.
A message from Amara.
She had sent a photograph.
Marcus stood beside her and Caleb.
All three were smiling.
Underneath it, she had written:
We made a decision. Marcus is helping us with something important before the wedding. Please don't make this harder.
I enlarged the photograph.
On the table in front of them was a folder.
May you like
A legal folder.
And in the corner, barely visible beneath Marcus's hand, was the logo of the same development company surveying Arthur's land.
