PART5

“That is incorrect. I have not signed or approved this agreement. The signature attributed to me is unauthorized. Please preserve all related communications and documents.”

I copied my attorney.

Then I closed the laptop.

For the first time that day, I felt like I had taken a real step toward protecting myself.

But at 4:18, someone knocked on my door.

I looked through the peephole.

It was Zayn.

He was standing alone in the hallway.

His shoulders were slumped, and he was holding something behind his back.

I opened the door.

“Hey,” I said.

He looked up.

“Uncle Heath?”

“What’s wrong?”

He swallowed.

“Mom doesn’t know I’m here.”

I stepped aside.

“Come in.”

He walked into my apartment slowly.

Then he pulled a small envelope from behind his back.

“I wanted to give you this.”

I looked at it.

“What is it?”

He lowered his head.

“Something Mom told me to throw away.”

My stomach tightened.

I took the envelope carefully.

Inside was a printed photograph of my laptop sitting on the driveway.

But that wasn’t the strange part.

The photograph had been taken before the laptop was smashed.

On the back, someone had written a sentence in blue ink.

Once Heath loses access, everything becomes ours.

I looked at Zayn.

“Who wrote this?”

He shook his head.

“I don’t know. I found it in Mom’s desk.”

I studied his face.

He looked frightened.

“Zayn, I need you to tell me something. Did your mother really tell you to break my laptop?”

His eyes filled with tears.

He nodded.

“She said it was important.”

“Why?”

He wiped his face with his sleeve.

“She said if you couldn’t work anymore, you couldn’t stop Grandma’s company transfer.”

I froze.

“Grandma’s company?”

Zayn looked confused.

Then he corrected himself.

“Grandpa’s company.”

I pulled out a chair.

“Sit down, Zayn.”

He sat.

For several seconds, he stared at the floor.

Then he said something that made me realize the driveway incident had been only one small piece of a much larger plan.

“Uncle Heath, Mom said Grandpa was going to give her the business. But she also said there was another document she needed to get from your apartment.”

I felt my throat tighten.

“What document?”

Zayn looked directly at me.

“The one that proves you own the website.”

I didn’t move.

Because I suddenly remembered something.

Five years earlier, when Dad couldn’t afford to pay a web development company, I had built his entire website using my own business account.

The domain registration was in my name.

The original design files were mine.

The hosting account was mine.

And the service agreement clearly stated that I retained ownership of my original software, templates, and technical infrastructure.

Dad owned his business information and customer records.

But Valerie couldn’t simply take ownership of my work.

Unless she could make it look like I had transferred everything voluntarily.

I looked at the envelope again.

Then at Zayn.

“Does your mother know you brought this to me?”

He shook his head.

“She thinks I threw it away.”

I nodded slowly.

“Thank you for telling me.”

He started crying.

“I’m sorry I broke your laptop.”

I looked at him.

For a moment, I saw the fourteen-year-old boy who used to sit beside me while I taught him how to build simple games on an old computer.

The boy who once told me he wanted to become a software engineer.

The boy who had been used by his own mother.

I pulled a chair closer.

“Zayn, what you did was wrong. You know that, right?”

He nodded.

“But I also know you were told to do it by an adult you trusted. That doesn’t make it okay, but it means you can still learn from it.”

He wiped his eyes.

“I didn’t know you needed it for work.”

I took a slow breath.

“Now you do.”

He nodded again.

Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small object.

It was the broken purple butterfly sticker’s missing corner.

“I found this near the driveway,” he whispered. “I thought you might want it.”

I looked at the tiny piece.

For a moment, I couldn’t speak.

I took it from his hand and placed it beside the other pieces I had carefully saved.

“Thank you, Zayn.”

He stood up.

Before leaving, he turned around.

“Uncle Heath?”

“Yes?”

“Mom has another meeting tomorrow. With Grandpa and a man from the bank.”

I felt my chest tighten.

“What time?”

“Nine in the morning.”

“Do you know what they’re discussing?”

He shook his head.

Then he hesitated.

“She said after tomorrow, nobody would be able to take the company away from her.”

I watched him leave.

When the door closed, I returned to my desk.

I opened the management proposal again.

Then I checked the domain registration, service agreements, server backups, and every invoice I had ever issued.

I found the original agreement.

It was dated five years earlier.

And there was one paragraph Valerie apparently hadn’t considered.

The agreement specifically prohibited transferring my proprietary software, design files, and administrative infrastructure without my written consent.

I read it twice.

Then I forwarded it to my attorney.

At 8:52 that evening, my phone buzzed.

A message from Dad.

“Heath, please don’t do anything tomorrow. We can discuss this as a family.”

I stared at the screen.

For five years, I had been willing to help my family without asking for recognition.

Now they wanted me to sit quietly while someone potentially used my name to take control of my work.

I typed one sentence.

“I am no longer discussing this as a family matter. Everything will be handled properly and through the appropriate channels.”

Then I put my phone down.

At 9:17, another message arrived.

This time, it was from Valerie.

“You have no idea what you’ve just started. By tomorrow afternoon, you’ll wish you had stayed quiet.”

I read it.

Then I took a screenshot and saved it with the other evidence.

I wasn’t going to argue with her.

I wasn’t going to threaten her.

I wasn’t even going to warn her about what I had found.

Because the next morning, at nine o’clock, she was planning to sit in a room with my father and a bank representative and present a document carrying my name.

And this time, I wasn’t going to let anyone speak for me.

But there was one thing I still didn’t know.

Who had actually created the forged agreement—and had my father known the truth long before the laptop ever hit the driveway?

CONTINUE FOR NEXT PART6…