I Came Back From America 🇺🇸After 11 Years & Found My Mother Was Mad and Living in an Abandoned House

He had given Pascal formal authority over the compound. He had listed Rosaline as the resident caretaker. And he had written, in his own hand, in blue pen on lined paper, that his daughter Chinonye’s monthly contributions should be managed by Pascal for the upkeep of the compound and the FAMILY 

Managed by Pascal.

Chinonye folded the letter carefully. She put it in her blazer pocket.

She called Obi.

“Come. And bring that lawyer you mentioned. The female one.”

Attorney Ngozi Dike arrived at ten o’clock. She was a small, precise woman with reading glasses on a chain and a leather folder she set on the outdoor table with the quiet authority of someone who already knew this table was going to hold important things.

Chinonye laid everything out.

The full transfer history from Chidi. She had sent him a WhatsApp at three in the morning, and he had sent the complete log before dawn. Every transaction. Every date. Every amount. Three hundred dollars a month. Sometimes four hundred. Eleven years. Calculated at the exchange rate at each point of transfer.

It was a number that made Ngozi pause.

She took off her glasses, polished them, and put them back on.

Then the letter from Godwin. Then the land title.

“The letter gives Pascal authority to manage,” Ngozi said when she had read everything. “It does not give him authority to keep. Those are two very different things in law.”

She tapped the transfer records.

“This is eleven years of documented money sent explicitly for a specific person’s welfare. We now need to establish what it was spent on. Do you have anything in writing from Pascal about what the money was used for?”