Chapter 3
Aunt Rochelle arrived forty minutes later.
I was still sitting beside my suitcase.
Dad had offered to carry it upstairs.
I refused.
I wasn't trying to punish him.
I simply didn't feel comfortable pretending everything was fine.
My entire life had changed in one afternoon.
Aunt Rochelle walked through the door wearing a gray blazer and black trousers.
She was thirty-nine, with short natural curls and the same gentle brown eyes my mother had.
When she saw me, her expression collapsed.
"Malik."
I stood.
She hurried toward me.
Then she wrapped her arms around me.
I held her tightly.
For a moment, I felt like I was nine again.
Crying at my mother's funeral.
Rochelle kissed my forehead.
"I'm here, sweetheart."
I couldn't stop crying.
She held me until I could breathe.
Then she turned toward Dad.
"Marcus."
He nodded.
"Rochelle."
Her expression hardened.
"I heard what happened."
Dad looked ashamed.
"I know."
She glanced toward my suitcase.
Then back at him.
"You were really going to put him out?"
Dad lowered his eyes.
"Yes."
Rochelle shook her head.
"Angela would have been heartbroken."
The words hit him hard.
I saw his shoulders collapse.
Denise stood near the staircase.
She folded her arms.
"Are we going to spend the whole night attacking Marcus?"
Rochelle looked at her.
"No."
Then she placed a thick folder on the coffee table.
"We're going to discuss Angela's estate."
Denise's face changed immediately.
Dad sat down.
I remained beside Rochelle.
She opened the folder.
Inside were legal documents.
Photocopies of signatures.
Property records.
And a letter written in my mother's handwriting.
My chest tightened.
I hadn't seen that handwriting in years.
Rochelle gently touched my shoulder.
"Malik, your mother made arrangements before she died."
I swallowed.
"What arrangements?"
She took a breath.
"Angela owned half of this house."
Dad nodded slowly.
"Yes."
Rochelle continued.
"When she died, her interest didn't simply disappear."
My father frowned.
"I thought it transferred to me."
Rochelle shook her head.
"Not according to the trust documents."
She showed him a page.
"Angela arranged for her share to be held for Malik's benefit."
My heart pounded.
"What?"
Rochelle looked at me.
"Your mother wanted you to have financial security when you became an adult."
I stared at the documents.
Mom had been sick for almost a year before she died.
I remembered her spending afternoons in bed.
Sometimes she was too tired to speak.
But she always smiled when I entered the room.
I never knew she had been planning for my future during those months.
Dad leaned forward.
"Why didn't I know?"
Rochelle looked at him.
"Angela told me she had discussed it with you."
He looked confused.
Then his face changed.
"I remember."
I turned toward him.
Dad rubbed his forehead.
"She mentioned a trust."
His voice broke.
"But after she died, I couldn't handle any of the paperwork."
Rochelle nodded.
"I know."
He looked ashamed.
"I let the attorney handle everything."
"Yes."
Then Rochelle opened another document.
"That arrangement was supposed to remain protected until Malik turned eighteen."
My stomach tightened.
"I'm seventeen."
She nodded.
"Your birthday is in four months."
I looked toward Denise.
Her face was pale.
Suddenly, I understood why she had become so aggressive about my college plans.
Why she wanted me out.
Why she kept telling Dad I didn't belong.
Rochelle continued.
"Angela also created an education trust."
My heart pounded.
"How much?"
She showed me a statement from the original account.
The starting balance was eighty thousand dollars.
I stared at it.
Mom had left me eighty thousand dollars.
I couldn't breathe.
Dad looked equally shocked.
Rochelle explained that the trust had been invested over time.
It was intended to help pay for college and provide a financial foundation when I became an adult.
I began crying.
Mom had been thinking about my future even while she was dying.
I looked toward the letter.
"Can I read it?"
Rochelle smiled gently.
"Of course."
I opened the envelope.
My mother's handwriting filled two pages.
My sweet Malik,
If you're reading this, you're becoming the young man I always knew you could be.
I hope you remember that you are loved.
Not because of your grades.
Not because of basketball.
Not because of anything you accomplish.
You are loved because you are my son.
Tears blurred the words.
I wiped my face.
Then I continued.
Your father loves you deeply.
And I know he will do everything he can to protect you.
But I wanted to leave something that belongs to you.
Something that reminds you that you will always have a place in this world.
I began sobbing.
Rochelle wrapped an arm around my shoulders.
Dad covered his face.
Then I reached the final paragraph.
Never let anyone convince you that you are a guest in your own life.
You belong.
You always will.
Love, Mom.
I pressed the letter against my chest.
For years, Denise had told me I was lucky to live in our house.
Now I knew Mom had specifically arranged for me to have an interest in it.
I looked toward Denise.
She wouldn't meet my eyes.
Rochelle opened another folder.
"There's a problem."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
"The trust records were changed three years ago."
Dad looked up.
"Changed how?"
Rochelle placed a document on the table.
It appeared to authorize a transfer of assets from my education trust into a family investment account.
I stared at it.
My father's name appeared near the bottom.
Dad leaned forward.
"I never signed this."
Denise suddenly spoke.
"Marcus, you sign business documents all the time."
He looked toward her.
"Not this."
Rochelle continued.
"The transaction was processed through a financial adviser."
My heart pounded.
"Who?"
She turned the page.
A name appeared.
Calvin Price.
Denise's younger brother.
I stared at the document.
Uncle Calvin.
The man who had always told me my mother left nothing worth discussing.
The man who bought expensive cars while complaining that college tuition was too high.
Dad stood.
"Denise."
She stepped backward.
"What?"
"Did Calvin handle Malik's trust?"
Her lips trembled.
Then she whispered, "He was helping the family."
Dad stared at her.
I felt cold.
Rochelle opened the final page.
"Marcus, there's more."
My stomach tightened.
She pointed toward a recent statement.
The trust balance had dropped dramatically.
I leaned closer.
Then I saw the number.
Less than twelve thousand dollars remained.
I stopped breathing.
Mom had left me a future.
May you like
Someone had nearly emptied it.
And the only person in the room who didn't look surprised was Denise.
