Chapter 4
"Where is my son's money?"
Dad's voice echoed through the living room.
Denise began crying.
"Marcus, please calm down."
He stared at her.
"Answer me."
She looked toward Rochelle.
"This is family business."
Rochelle remained calm.
"Malik's trust is his business too."
I stood beside the coffee table.
My mother's letter was still in my hand.
I couldn't stop looking at the statement.
Less than twelve thousand dollars.
The money Mom had saved for me was almost gone.
I felt sick.
"Denise," I whispered, "did you take it?"
She shook her head.
"No."
Dad stepped forward.
"Then who did?"
She looked down.
"Calvin invested it."
My stomach tightened.
"Without asking me?"
She folded her arms.
"You were a child."
I stared at her.
"I'm still the beneficiary."
She laughed bitterly.
"You don't understand investments."
Rochelle interrupted.
"Then explain why the trust funds were transferred into an account associated with your brother's company."
Denise went silent.
Dad rubbed his forehead.
"Denise, what did Calvin do?"
She began crying harder.
"He promised the money would double."
I couldn't breathe.
"Double?"
She nodded.
"He had a property development project."
Dad stared at her.
"What project?"
She hesitated.
"A luxury apartment complex."
Rochelle opened another document.
"Where?"
Denise looked confused.
"What?"
"The development location."
She couldn't answer.
Dad slowly sat down.
"Oh my God."
I stared at Denise.
"You gambled with my mother's money."
She snapped.
"Don't talk to me like that!"
For the first time, Dad didn't defend her.
"Denise, stop."
She turned sharply.
"Marcus!"
He shook his head.
"He's right to ask."
Her expression changed.
I felt tears gathering.
For years, I had watched Dad take her side.
Now he was finally listening.
But it didn't make the money come back.
Rochelle explained that the trust records needed a formal investigation.
The suspicious transfers would have to be traced.
The signatures verified.
The investment documents examined.
She also warned us not to assume every dollar was permanently lost.
I wanted to believe her.
But I was terrified.
My basketball scholarship wasn't guaranteed.
College was expensive.
And Mom's trust was supposed to help me build a future.
I looked toward Dad.
"Did you know?"
His eyes filled with tears.
"No."
I swallowed.
"Promise?"
He looked directly at me.
"I promise."
I wanted to trust him.
But after what happened with the suitcase, trust didn't come easily.
That evening, Dad asked Denise to stay with her sister while the financial situation was investigated.
She became furious.
"You're kicking me out?"
Dad shook his head.
"I'm asking for space."
She pointed toward me.
"This is his fault!"
I flinched.
Dad stepped between us.
"No."
His voice was firm.
"Malik didn't create these documents."
Denise stared at him.
"He turned you against me!"
Dad shook his head.
"Your actions did that."
For a moment, she looked genuinely shocked.
Then she grabbed her handbag.
"You'll regret this."
She stormed toward the door.
The sound of her heels echoed across the marble floor.
When she left, the house became silent.
Dad looked toward me.
I stood beside my suitcase.
Neither of us spoke.
Then he whispered, "Can I take that upstairs?"
I looked at the suitcase.
For years, I'd used it for basketball trips.
Summer camps.
Family vacations.
Now it reminded me of the day Dad almost threw me away.
I shook my head.
"Not yet."
His face tightened.
"Okay."
I took the suitcase and walked upstairs myself.
That night, I sat on my bed staring at Mom's letter.
I reread it three times.
Every sentence hurt.
Especially the part about Dad protecting me.
I wondered what Mom would think if she'd seen what happened.
Would she forgive him?
Would she be angry?
Would she tell me to leave?
I didn't know.
Then my phone rang.
Aunt Rochelle.
I answered.
"Hey, Auntie."
Her voice was gentle.
"How are you holding up?"
I laughed bitterly.
"Not great."
She was quiet.
Then asked, "Do you want to come stay with me for a few days?"
I thought about it.
Part of me wanted to leave.
I didn't feel safe in that house anymore.
But another part wanted Dad to prove he could protect me.
"I don't know."
Rochelle nodded.
"You don't have to decide tonight."
I swallowed.
Then asked something I'd been afraid to say.
"Auntie, did Mom know Denise?"
She paused.
"No."
I looked down.
"Would she have liked her?"
Rochelle was quiet.
Then answered carefully.
"Your mother wanted your father to be happy."
I nodded.
"But she also wanted you protected."
Tears filled my eyes.
I covered my face.
Rochelle waited.
Then said, "Malik, nothing that happened today changes your worth."
I began crying.
She continued.
"You didn't deserve to be threatened."
I nodded.
"You didn't deserve to be thrown out."
My voice broke.
"I know."
"And you don't have to forgive anyone before you're ready."
For the first time that day, I felt like somebody understood.
After ending the call, I lay awake for hours.
Around midnight, I heard footsteps outside my door.
A soft knock followed.
"Malik?"
Dad.
I didn't answer.
He waited.
Then whispered, "I know you're awake."
I stared at the ceiling.
He continued.
"I'm not asking you to forgive me tonight."
My throat tightened.
"I just want you to know I'm here."
I closed my eyes.
For a long moment, he remained outside.
Then his footsteps faded.
I began crying again.
The next morning, Dad drove me to school.
We barely spoke.
When we reached the parking lot, he looked toward me.
"Son."
I paused with my hand on the door.
He swallowed.
"I'm going to find out what happened to your money."
I nodded.
"And I'm going to make sure nobody ever puts you in that position again."
I looked at him.
I wanted to believe him.
But I needed more than promises.
I stepped out of the car.
Then I turned back.
"Dad?"
He looked up.
"Yes?"
"Don't make me regret trusting you again."
His eyes filled with tears.
"I won't."
I closed the door and walked toward school.
For the first time in years, I felt uncertain about everything.
But I also knew something had changed.
My father's eyes were finally open.
And Denise could no longer hide behind his silence.
Then, during second period, my phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
A message appeared.
MALIK, YOUR STEPMOTHER DIDN'T TAKE THE MONEY ALONE.
I stared at the screen.
Another message followed.
ASK YOUR FATHER WHAT HE SIGNED THREE YEARS AGO.
My stomach dropped.
May you like
Because the one thing I desperately wanted to believe was that Dad had been innocent.
And someone was claiming otherwise.
