Chapter 3
Dad stared at my closet.
For several seconds, he didn't speak.
Then he stood.
"Maya, where is the box?"
I pointed toward the top shelf.
He walked over and opened the closet door.
Behind my winter blankets sat a small wooden chest.
It had flowers carved into the lid.
Mommy had owned it before I was born.
After she died, Dad filled it with photographs, letters, jewelry, and little things she wanted me to have.
He always said the box belonged to me.
That one day, when I was older, we would sit together and look through everything.
I loved that box.
Sometimes I opened it just to smell Mommy's old scarf.
It still smelled faintly like lavender.
Dad lifted the chest down.
He placed it on my bed.
Then opened the lid.
His face changed.
The little blue velvet jewelry pouch was missing.
So was the envelope of money.
Dad searched carefully.
Then he looked at me.
"Maya, what happened?"
My throat tightened.
"Denise said the things inside belonged to her now."
Dad stared.
"What?"
"She said because she's your wife, she gets to decide what happens to Mommy's stuff."
Dad's jaw tightened.
"Did she take anything?"
I nodded.
"Her gold necklace."
Dad looked down.
I remembered that necklace.
Mommy wore it in almost every photograph.
It had a small heart-shaped pendant.
Inside was a tiny picture of me as a baby.
I used to ask Dad when I could wear it.
He promised it would be mine when I turned sixteen.
But Denise took it months ago.
She said I wasn't responsible enough to own jewelry.
Then she told me something that made me stop asking.
"Your mother isn't coming back for it."
I told Dad.
His eyes filled with tears.
He sat down slowly.
For a moment, he looked broken.
Then he asked about the money.
I explained that Denise made me bring her envelopes from the box.
Sometimes she told me to open them.
Sometimes she took them herself.
I didn't know how much money there had been.
I only knew the envelopes were labeled with my name.
Dad's expression became darker.
He took out his phone.
He called someone.
"Rachel?"
I watched him.
"Can you come to the house?"
He listened.
Then said, "It's about Maya's trust."
My stomach tightened.
Trust?
I had heard that word before.
But I didn't understand what it meant.
Dad ended the call.
Then looked at me.
"Sweetheart, your mother left money for your future."
I nodded.
"I know."
"Some of it was supposed to help pay for school when you're older."
I looked at the empty box.
"Did Denise take it all?"
He shook his head.
"Most of the money is held somewhere she shouldn't be able to reach."
I felt a little relieved.
Then he looked at the missing jewelry pouch.
"But we need to find out exactly what happened."
I nodded.
He gently closed the box.
Then stood.
"Stay here for a minute."
I grabbed his sleeve.
"Daddy, don't leave me."
He immediately sat back down.
"I'm not leaving you."
He thought for a moment.
Then took my hand.
"Come with me."
We walked downstairs together.
Denise was standing near the kitchen.
Her plate was gone.
The mop and bucket had disappeared.
The floor was dry.
Everything looked normal.
She smiled when she saw Dad.
"Marcus, honey, I made coffee."
Dad didn't smile.
"Where is Jasmine's necklace?"
Denise froze.
"What?"
"My late wife's necklace."
Her face changed.
"Oh, that old thing?"
Dad stepped closer.
"Where is it?"
She laughed nervously.
"I put it somewhere safe."
"Where?"
"Marcus, why are you acting like this?"
I stood behind Dad.
My hands trembled.
Denise looked at me.
And I saw the anger in her eyes.
She knew I'd told him.
Dad noticed.
"Don't look at her."
Denise turned sharply.
"Excuse me?"
"Answer me."
She crossed her arms.
"Fine. I sold it."
The words hit me like a slap.
I gasped.
Dad went completely still.
"You what?"
Denise lifted her chin.
"It was just sitting in a box."
I started crying.
"That was Mommy's!"
Denise rolled her eyes.
"Maya, stop being dramatic."
Dad's voice thundered.
"Do not speak to her!"
Denise stepped backward.
For the first time, she looked frightened.
Dad took a slow breath.
"That necklace belonged to my daughter."
"It belonged to your dead wife."
The room went silent.
Dad stared at her.
I could see something change in his face.
Not anger.
Something colder.
Disbelief.
He looked at the woman he'd married.
And I think he finally saw her.
Not the smiling woman who brought him coffee.
Not the woman who acted loving when guests visited.
But the woman who had made his daughter afraid inside her own home.
"Denise," he said quietly, "we're going to have a very different conversation now."
She scoffed.
"Over a necklace?"
Dad shook his head.
"Over everything."
He pulled out his phone.
"I'm calling the police."
Denise's face went pale.
"Marcus, don't be ridiculous."
He didn't answer.
She stepped closer.
"You'd call the police on your own wife?"
Dad looked directly at her.
"You're accused of abusing my daughter and taking her property."
I felt my heart pounding.
Denise's expression changed.
She looked toward the door.
Then at me.
Then back at Dad.
Suddenly, she smiled.
A strange smile.
Almost calm.
"Go ahead."
Dad paused.
"What?"
She folded her arms.
"Call whoever you want."
I didn't understand why she looked so confident.
Then she said something that frightened me.
"You should probably check whose name is on the savings account first."
Dad stared at her.
"What account?"
May you like
Denise smiled.
"The one you thought was protected."
