Chapter 2
"What did Angela leave?"
Dad's voice was barely audible.
Aunt Rochelle continued speaking through my phone.
"Marcus, your first wife didn't leave that house entirely to you."
My father stared at the screen.
I felt my heart pounding.
Denise rushed toward him.
"Turn that off!"
Dad stepped away.
"Don't touch me."
She froze.
It was the first time I'd ever heard him speak to her like that.
The video continued.
"Angela's will created a trust for Malik," Rochelle explained. "And there were instructions concerning the property."
Dad looked up.
"What trust?"
I stared at him.
He sounded genuinely confused.
Denise began crying.
"This is ridiculous."
Dad ignored her.
Rochelle continued.
"I have copies of the original estate documents. Marcus, you need to call me before anyone signs another paper."
The recording ended.
Silence filled our living room.
I could hear the chandelier humming faintly above us.
Dad slowly lowered my phone.
Then he looked toward Denise.
"Did you know about this?"
She shook her head.
"No."
He stared at her.
"Don't lie."
Her face tightened.
"Marcus, your sister-in-law has always hated me."
I swallowed.
Aunt Rochelle wasn't my father's sister.
She was my mother's younger sister.
She had stayed close to me after Mom died.
She visited every birthday.
Sent Christmas gifts.
Called to ask about school.
But Denise hated her.
She said Rochelle interfered in our family.
She complained whenever Rochelle visited.
And eventually, Dad stopped inviting her to our house.
I had never understood why.
Now I was beginning to.
Dad turned toward me.
"Malik, put your suitcase down."
I stared at him.
My chest hurt.
"What?"
"You're not leaving."
I looked at the suitcase.
Then back at him.
Five minutes earlier, he had been ready to throw me out.
Now he wanted everything to return to normal.
I shook my head.
"Dad, you already told me to leave."
His face collapsed.
"Son—"
"You believed her."
Tears spilled down my cheeks.
"You didn't even ask me what happened."
He stepped closer.
"I'm sorry."
I backed away.
He stopped.
For the first time, he seemed to understand that saying sorry wouldn't erase what he'd done.
Denise suddenly spoke.
"Oh, please. He's manipulating you."
Dad turned sharply.
"Enough."
She crossed her arms.
"You're choosing him over your wife?"
Dad stared at her.
"I'm choosing to find out the truth."
She laughed bitterly.
"That boy has been trying to destroy our marriage for years."
I felt anger rise.
"That's not true!"
She pointed at me.
"See? He's disrespectful!"
Dad stepped between us.
"Denise, stop."
Her expression changed.
For the first time, she looked afraid.
Dad held out my phone.
"Play the original recording."
I nodded.
My hands were shaking as I opened the file.
The kitchen appeared on the screen.
I heard myself asking Denise to stop arguing.
Then her voice came through.
"Maybe it's time your father understood what kind of son he's raising."
Dad's jaw tightened.
The recording continued.
"You'll regret disrespecting me."
I watched his face.
He looked devastated.
Then my voice followed.
"I don't want to fight."
The recording ended.
Dad slowly sat on the cream sofa.
He covered his face.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then he whispered, "Oh my God."
Denise stepped forward.
"Marcus—"
He raised his hand.
"Don't."
She stopped.
I felt tears running down my cheeks.
For years, I'd dreamed of Dad hearing what happened when he wasn't home.
Now he finally had.
But the relief didn't feel the way I'd imagined.
I was still hurt.
Still frightened.
Still standing beside a suitcase my father had packed.
Dad looked up.
"Malik, how long has she been treating you this way?"
I swallowed.
I wanted to say everything.
The insults.
The threats.
The times Denise refused to let me eat dinner with them.
The times she told me my mother was gone and I needed to stop living in the past.
But the words wouldn't come.
"Since you married her," I whispered.
Dad went completely still.
Denise gasped.
"That's a lie!"
I stared at her.
Then I looked back at Dad.
"I tried telling you."
He covered his mouth.
I continued.
"But every time, you said I needed to respect her."
My voice broke.
"You told me she was trying."
Dad began crying.
I had seen him cry only twice before.
When Mom died.
And when his own father passed away.
Now he sat in front of me, crying because he finally understood what had been happening.
"Malik," he whispered, "I'm sorry."
I looked away.
I wasn't ready to forgive him.
Then Dad picked up his phone.
He called Aunt Rochelle.
She answered immediately.
"Marcus?"
He swallowed.
"Rochelle, it's me."
Her voice became serious.
"Is Malik safe?"
Dad closed his eyes.
"Yes."
I felt something warm in my chest.
She hadn't asked about the house.
Or the documents.
She asked whether I was safe.
Dad continued.
"I need to know what Angela left."
Rochelle hesitated.
"Not over the phone."
My stomach tightened.
"Why?"
"Because the documents are more complicated than you realize."
Dad rubbed his forehead.
"Can you come here?"
She was quiet.
Then she answered.
"I'll come, but Malik needs to be present."
Dad looked toward me.
I nodded.
"Okay."
Before ending the call, Rochelle said something that made Denise turn pale.
"Marcus, don't let anyone near Angela's old filing cabinet."
Dad frowned.
"What filing cabinet?"
"The one in the upstairs study."
I stared at him.
That cabinet had belonged to Mom.
After she died, Dad moved it into the study.
Years later, Denise claimed the key was lost.
I hadn't seen it opened since I was twelve.
Dad looked toward the staircase.
Then back at Denise.
"Where's the key?"
She blinked.
"What key?"
"The filing cabinet."
She looked away.
"I don't know."
Dad stood.
"Denise."
Her voice trembled.
"Marcus, please."
He took a step toward her.
"What are you hiding?"
She began crying.
Then she whispered something that made my stomach drop.
"I was only trying to protect what belongs to this family."
Dad stared at her.
"What does that mean?"
May you like
She covered her face.
And I suddenly realized that the woman who wanted me out of the house knew exactly what Aunt Rochelle was coming to reveal.
