My blood ran cold.
Then Morales revealed the final detail.
The man in the hallway hadn’t simply accompanied my family.
He was already under investigation for another suspicious fire.
Before I could ask where, Morales’s phone rang.
He listened, his face turning serious.
When he hung up, he said, “Ashley, your brother just contacted the police.”
I almost felt relieved.
Until Morales continued.
“He says your mother has a second set of documents. And someone is threatening to kill him if he talks.”
“Is Kyle safe?” I asked.
Detective Morales looked toward the parking lot.
“We don’t know yet. He called from a gas station outside Columbus, said he needed protection, and hung up before dispatch could get his location.”
I grabbed my phone and called my brother.
Straight to voicemail.
I tried again.
Nothing.
For most of my life, Kyle had been Mom’s favorite. At twenty-seven, he still lived in her house, drove a car she helped pay for, and never questioned her decisions.
I’d spent years resenting him.
But now I was terrified he might be dead.
Morales arranged for an officer to drive me to my friend Rachel’s house. Before leaving, he warned me not to contact my mother or Daniel.
“Whoever started that fire may believe you have evidence they missed,” he said.
I barely slept.
At 6:15 the next morning, someone knocked on Rachel’s door.
It was Kyle.
His lip was split, his right eye swollen, and he was gripping a grocery bag with trembling hands.
“Ashley,” he whispered. “I didn’t know they were going to burn your place.”
Rachel immediately called the police.
Kyle sat at the kitchen table and started crying.
For the first time in my life, my brother looked genuinely ashamed.
He placed the bag in front of me.
Inside was a flash drive, several bank statements, and a handwritten letter from Dad.
“Mom told me you stole our inheritance,” he said. “She said Dad left everything to her, but you were hiding documents to challenge the will.”
I stared at him.
“You believed her?”
He lowered his eyes.
“She showed me papers with Dad’s signature.”
“And you never thought to ask me?”
“I should have.”
He explained that Mom and Daniel had been struggling financially for months.
Daniel’s contracting business had collapsed. He owed money to suppliers, had unpaid taxes, and was facing a lawsuit.
Then Mom discovered Dad had left me his half of the family house through a trust.
She was furious.
Dad’s will allowed her to live there while she remained alive, but she couldn’t sell or mortgage my share without my consent.
She’d tried convincing me to sign a new agreement.
I’d refused because Dad had specifically warned me to protect the property.
I never imagined what she’d do next.
According to Kyle, Daniel introduced Mom to a man who could prepare fraudulent real estate documents.
They created a deed with Dad’s forged signature, claiming he’d transferred his interest to Mom before he died.
The document’s execution date was March 18, six months after his death.
That mistake should have destroyed their plan.
Instead, they’d submitted another version to a private lender, this one falsely dated before Dad’s death.
Using the fraudulent paperwork, Mom secured a loan against the house.
The amount made my stomach turn.
Two hundred and forty thousand dollars.
“Where’s the money?” I asked.
Kyle rubbed his forehead.
“Mostly gone. Daniel used it to pay debts and fund another business.”
I couldn’t speak.
Mom had risked the only home Dad wanted us to keep.
Then Kyle revealed why my apartment had burned.
Two weeks earlier, I’d received a letter from the county recorder’s office about a property transaction involving the house.
I hadn’t recognized the lender’s name, so I’d requested copies of the filing.
Mom somehow found out.
She knew I kept important papers in a fireproof safe, including the original trust documents and Dad’s handwritten instructions.
Daniel convinced her that destroying my records would stop me from proving the fraud.
It wouldn’t have worked. The county and trust attorney had copies.
But apparently, nobody had explained that to them.
Last Thursday, Mom used her emergency key to enter my apartment.
Kyle came along because she’d told him they were retrieving family property.
Daniel accompanied them.
When they found the safe, Kyle refused to help open it.
“That’s when I realized something was wrong,” he said.
He’d argued with Mom in the hallway.
Daniel told him to leave.
Kyle complied, but waited downstairs.
Twenty minutes later, Daniel emerged carrying a backpack.
Mom followed him.
Kyle thought they’d finished searching.
He didn’t know Daniel had returned to the apartment alone.
He learned about the fire when he saw the news.
“Mom told me it was an accident,” he whispered. “But Daniel started laughing when he heard you’d survived.”
