Chapter 3
I followed Grandma down the hallway feeling as though I was walking toward something dangerous.
For four years, I'd believed my mother didn't want me.
Every birthday without a phone call.
Every Christmas without a present.
Every basketball game where I searched the bleachers for her face.
I had explained all those disappointments the same way.
She didn't care.
That's what Dad told me.
And I had accepted it because the alternative seemed too painful to imagine.
Grandma unlocked the narrow storage closet beside the laundry room.
Inside were winter coats, old decorations, and several cardboard boxes.
She reached for one on the highest shelf.
I helped her carry it into the living room.
Across the lid, someone had written a single word.
PAPERS.
Grandma opened it.
Inside were folders, photographs, and envelopes.
Dozens of envelopes.
My hands began trembling.
I picked up the first one.
It was addressed to Malik Johnson.
The return address belonged to my mother.
NICOLE JOHNSON.
I hadn't seen her handwriting in years.
My throat closed.
“Why does Dad have these?”
Grandma sat beside me.
“I found them three days ago while looking for old insurance documents.”
“Did you ask him?”
“Yes.”
“What did he say?”
“He claimed they were returned mail and that your mother didn't want you involved in her problems.”
I looked at the envelopes.
Most were unopened.
Some had been torn and taped shut.
A few contained photographs.
One showed Mom standing outside a small apartment building.
Another showed her beside a birthday cake.
I recognized the date written on the back.
My fourteenth birthday.
I felt my eyes burn.
“She remembered.”
Grandma touched my shoulder.
“She never forgot.”
I opened the oldest letter.
My fingers shook so badly that I nearly ripped it.
Inside was a single page.
My dear Malik,
I know you're hurt and confused.
I wish I could explain everything without making you carry grown-up problems.
Please remember that I love you.
Nothing that happens between your father and me can change that.
I will keep trying to see you and Maya.
You are my son, and I will never stop loving you.
Love always,
Mom.
I read it again.
Then again.
My vision blurred.
Mom hadn't said goodbye to us because she wanted freedom.
She had been trying to reach us.
I looked at Grandma.
“Why would Dad hide this?”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I wish I knew all his reasons.”
I stood so suddenly the letter slipped from my hand.
“He told me she abandoned us!”
Grandma rose.
“Malik—”
“He told Maya she chose another life!”
“I know.”
I stared at her.
“And you believed him?”
The question came out harsher than I intended.
Grandma flinched.
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then she lowered her head.
“I believed too much of what my son told me.”
Tears slid down her cheeks.
“And I am deeply sorry.”
I wanted to be angry with her.
Part of me was.
But then I remembered how she had stood between Dad and me.
How she'd protected Maya.
How she'd defended me when nobody else did.
I sat down again.
My hands were shaking.
“Can we call Mom?”
Grandma nodded.
“Yes.”
“Do you have her number?”
“I found a recent address and phone number in the box.”
My stomach twisted.
“Recent?”
“She wrote again last month.”
I stared at her.
Last month.
Mom had still been trying.
“Why didn't you tell me three days ago?”
Grandma swallowed.
“I wanted to speak to your father first. I thought I could get an explanation before bringing this pain to you.”
I looked away.
“I wish you'd told me immediately.”
“You're right.”
She didn't argue.
That made me want to cry again.
Grandma handed me her phone.
The number was written on a yellow sticky note.
I stared at it.
My thumb hovered above the screen.
What if Mom didn't answer?
What if she sounded different?
What if she had another family?
What if Dad had been telling the truth about some things?
Grandma squeezed my shoulder.
“You don't have to do this today.”
I shook my head.
“Yes, I do.”
I pressed the call button.
The phone rang.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Then a woman's voice answered.
“Hello?”
My chest tightened.
I knew that voice.
Even after four years.
Even after everything.
“Mom?”
Silence.
Then I heard a sharp breath.
“Malik?”
I closed my eyes.
“Yeah.”
“Oh, my God.”
Her voice broke.
“Baby, is that really you?”
I started crying.
“Mom, why didn't you come back?”
She made a sound that shattered my heart.
“Oh, Malik. I tried.”
I could hear her crying.
“I tried so many times.”
I couldn't speak.
“I sent letters. I called. I asked your father to let me speak to you.”
I wiped my face.
“He said you didn't want us.”
“No!”
The word came out like a sob.
“Never. Malik, never.”
I pressed the phone harder against my ear.
“Then where are you?”
“I'm in Charlotte.”
My heart raced.
“Can you come here?”
She was silent for a moment.
Then she asked, “Does your father know you're calling?”
“No.”
I heard her breathing change.
“Is he there?”
“No. Grandma made him leave.”
Another pause.
“Grandma Evelyn?”
“Yes.”
Mom began crying again.
“Is Maya okay?”
I looked toward the stairs.
“She's upstairs.”
“Can I talk to her?”
“Yeah.”
I swallowed.
“Mom, I need to ask something first.”
“Anything, baby.”
“Did Dad make you leave?”
The silence lasted so long that I thought the call had disconnected.
Finally, Mom spoke.
“Your father and I had serious problems.”
I waited.
“He controlled our money. He isolated me from people who wanted to help. And when I tried to leave, things became frightening.”
My blood turned cold.
“Did he hurt you?”
She took a shaky breath.
“He hurt me in ways I didn't know how to explain to two little children.”
I closed my eyes.
Then she continued.
“I never wanted you or Maya to feel responsible.”
I gripped the phone.
“Come get us.”
Mom started crying harder.
“Oh, baby.”
“Please.”
Grandma took my free hand.
Mom whispered, “I want to see you more than anything.”
“Then come.”
“I will.”
I exhaled.
But then she added something that made my heart stop.
“Malik, before I come, I need to know whether your father still keeps a locked black briefcase in his bedroom.”
I looked at Grandma.
Her face changed.
“What briefcase?” I asked.
Mom's voice became urgent.
“The one he always told everyone never to touch.”
I remembered it immediately.
Dad kept it beneath his bed.
Locked.
Hidden.
Protected like it contained his entire life.
“Yeah,” I whispered.
Mom took a sharp breath.
“Then you need to tell Grandma Evelyn something.”
“What?”
“Your father has been hiding more than letters.”
I felt my stomach drop.
“What else?”
May you like
Her next words changed everything.
“He's been taking money from both of you for years.”
