Chapter 5
I stared at the message until my teacher called my name.
"Malik?"
I looked up.
"Yes, ma'am?"
"Are you okay?"
I nodded.
"Yes."
But I wasn't.
The words on my screen kept repeating in my head.
ASK YOUR FATHER WHAT HE SIGNED THREE YEARS AGO.
I wanted to delete the message.
I wanted to pretend it was another lie.
But the timing was too strange.
Someone knew about the trust.
Someone knew about Denise.
And someone knew something about Dad.
At lunch, I called Aunt Rochelle.
She answered immediately.
"Malik?"
I told her about the message.
She became quiet.
Then asked, "Did you recognize the number?"
"No."
"Did you reply?"
I shook my head.
"No."
"Good."
I swallowed.
"Do you think Dad knew?"
She hesitated.
"I don't know."
My chest tightened.
I wanted her to say no.
I wanted certainty.
Instead, she said something more important.
"We need to follow the documents, sweetheart."
I nodded.
Then she continued.
"Don't confront anyone alone. Let the investigation establish what happened."
I agreed.
But waiting was difficult.
Every time I looked at Dad, I wondered whether he was hiding something.
That evening, Rochelle came to our house with Attorney Renee Jackson.
Renee was a calm woman in her forties who specialized in estate disputes and financial misconduct.
We sat around the dining table.
Dad looked exhausted.
I sat across from him.
The trust documents lay between us.
Renee began carefully.
"Marcus, we need to review your involvement in the transfer."
Dad nodded.
"Okay."
She placed a document in front of him.
"Do you recognize this?"
He studied it.
Then frowned.
"Maybe."
My stomach tightened.
"What do you mean?"
Dad rubbed his forehead.
"Calvin brought me paperwork three years ago."
I stared at him.
"Why?"
"He said Denise wanted to consolidate some family investments."
Renee leaned forward.
"Did he specifically discuss Malik's education trust?"
Dad hesitated.
"Not that I remember."
My chest tightened.
Renee continued.
"Did you sign?"
Dad looked down.
"Yes."
I stopped breathing.
For a moment, I couldn't hear anything.
Then I whispered, "Dad."
He looked at me.
"Son, I didn't know what it was."
I felt anger rising.
"You signed something involving my money?"
He shook his head.
"I thought it concerned household investments."
I stared at him.
"You didn't read it?"
He closed his eyes.
"No."
I stood.
My chair scraped backward.
"Are you serious?"
Dad looked devastated.
"Malik—"
"Mom left that money for me!"
My voice broke.
"And you signed it away?"
Rochelle reached toward me.
"Sweetheart."
I shook my head.
"No!"
Tears poured down my face.
I looked at Dad.
"You said you didn't know."
He swallowed.
"I didn't understand what I was authorizing."
I laughed bitterly.
"That's not the same thing."
He lowered his eyes.
"No."
For the first time, he didn't try to defend himself.
He simply sat there.
Ashamed.
I wanted to scream.
I wanted to throw something.
But then I remembered how frightened I'd felt when Dad shoved my suitcase.
I didn't want to become someone who used anger to hurt people.
I took a breath.
Then sat down.
Renee waited until I was calmer.
"Marcus, your signature may have been used to initiate the transfer, but we need to determine whether the document accurately represented what you were told."
Dad nodded.
"Okay."
She continued.
"Do you have any emails or messages from Calvin?"
He thought carefully.
"Maybe."
Then he stood.
"I'll check."
He returned with his laptop.
We searched old emails.
Most were ordinary business messages.
Then Rochelle found one from three years earlier.
The subject line read:
FAMILY INVESTMENT APPROVAL.
Calvin had written that the paperwork would move funds into a temporary holding account.
He promised a fixed return.
Dad had replied with a short message.
Looks fine. Send it over.
I stared at the screen.
My stomach tightened.
Dad covered his face.
"I should've asked questions."
I looked at him.
"Yes."
His voice broke.
"I should've protected you."
I swallowed.
"Yes."
For several minutes, nobody spoke.
Then Renee opened another email.
This one came from Denise.
She had sent Calvin a message after the transfer.
The funds are moved. Marcus didn't ask questions.
My heart stopped.
Dad stared at the screen.
His face went pale.
Renee continued reading.
Another message followed.
We need to finish this before Malik turns eighteen.
I felt cold.
Denise had been planning around my birthday.
My eighteenth birthday.
The moment I would become an adult.
The moment I'd have more rights concerning the trust.
I looked toward Rochelle.
"Is that why she wanted me gone?"
Rochelle's expression tightened.
"It's possible. We need to establish the full context."
I nodded.
But deep down, I already knew.
Denise wanted me away from Dad.
Away from the house.
Away from the trust.
And away from anyone who might help me understand my rights.
Then Dad found another email.
His hands began shaking.
"Renee."
She looked up.
"What?"
He turned the laptop toward her.
The message was from Denise to Calvin.
It was dated only two months earlier.
Malik is asking too many questions about college money.
I felt sick.
Then I read the next line.
If Marcus won't make him leave, I'll give him a reason.
My chest tightened.
I looked toward Dad.
He stared at the screen.
Tears ran down his cheeks.
Denise hadn't merely lied after an argument.
She had planned to make me look dangerous.
She had planned to turn my father against me.
And she had almost succeeded.
I sat back.
For a long moment, I couldn't speak.
Then Dad whispered, "She used my love for her against my son."
Rochelle looked at him.
"Marcus, your responsibility now is to act."
He nodded.
"I will."
Renee began organizing the evidence.
She explained that the emails should be preserved.
The suspicious transfers could be challenged.
And the trust administration needed independent review.
I listened carefully.
For the first time, I understood how important it was to ask questions.
To read documents.
To protect myself.
Then Dad turned toward me.
"Malik."
I looked up.
He was crying.
"I need you to understand something."
My chest tightened.
He continued.
"I made serious mistakes."
I nodded.
"I trusted the wrong person."
He swallowed.
"And I failed to listen when you needed me."
Tears filled my eyes.
He looked directly at me.
"But I never wanted to hurt you."
I stared at him.
For a moment, I wanted to believe that was enough.
Then I remembered the suitcase.
The shouting.
The fear.
I took a breath.
"Dad, I believe you didn't want to hurt me."
His face softened.
"But you did."
He nodded slowly.
"Yes."
I swallowed.
"And I need time."
Tears rolled down his cheeks.
"Take all the time you need."
For the first time, he didn't ask me to forgive him.
He didn't ask me to understand.
He simply accepted what I'd said.
That mattered.
But the investigation was far from over.
Because the emails had exposed Denise's plan.
And now we needed to find out whether Calvin had taken the money.
May you like
Lost it.
Or hidden it somewhere we hadn't discovered yet.
