Chapter 2
I stared at the photograph on Maya's phone.
My signature was at the bottom of a document I'd never seen.
Above it were the words VEHICLE TRANSFER AUTHORIZATION.
The silver sedan.
My daughter's graduation present.
Denise had apparently prepared paperwork to move ownership away from Maya.
I looked up.
“Where did you get this?”
Denise swallowed.
“Marcus, you're misunderstanding.”
I stepped closer.
“Did you forge my signature?”
She laughed nervously.
“Don't be ridiculous.”
“Then explain the document.”
Her eyes flickered toward Jordan.
He immediately looked away.
I recognized that expression.
Fear.
Not guilt.
Fear of what his mother might say next.
“Jordan,” I said gently, “did you know about this?”
Denise snapped, “Don't drag my son into our marriage!”
I ignored her.
Jordan swallowed.
“Marcus, Mom told me you'd agreed.”
I looked at him.
“When?”
“Last night.”
Denise's face tightened.
Jordan continued.
“She said you changed your mind about giving Maya the car.”
My chest hurt.
I remembered the night before.
Maya had been upstairs trying on her graduation dress.
I'd been wrapping a small gift box containing the keys.
Denise had helped me tie the ribbon.
She'd smiled.
She'd even suggested placing the enormous bow on the windshield.
All while apparently planning to take the gift away.
I turned toward my wife.
“You watched me prepare this surprise.”
She folded her arms.
“I was trying to be fair.”
“By lying?”
“By making sure both children have opportunities!”
I took a slow breath.
“Then we could've discussed Jordan's transportation needs like adults.”
Denise shook her head.
“You wouldn't have listened.”
“You never asked.”
Her expression hardened.
“Because Maya always comes first.”
I felt something inside me settle.
For years, I'd tried to understand Denise's resentment.
I'd explained that supporting my daughter didn't mean loving Jordan less.
I'd included him in family vacations.
Paid for his driving lessons.
Helped him find summer work.
But Denise didn't seem interested in fairness.
She wanted Maya to lose something.
And I was beginning to understand that the difference mattered.
I looked at my daughter.
“Sweetheart, how long has Denise been sending messages like these?”
Maya lowered her eyes.
“Dad…”
“Please tell me.”
She hesitated.
“Since last fall.”
My stomach dropped.
Nine months.
Nine months of threats.
And I'd been sleeping in the same house, believing everything was fine.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
The question escaped before I could soften it.
Maya flinched.
I immediately regretted my tone.
I knelt in front of her.
“I'm not angry with you.”
Her eyes filled.
“I tried.”
I froze.
“What?”
“I tried telling you.”
My heart pounded.
“When?”
“Before Thanksgiving.”
I remembered Thanksgiving.
I'd been negotiating a major contract in Raleigh.
Denise called and said Maya was being disrespectful.
When I returned, my daughter barely spoke at dinner.
I'd told her to be patient with her stepmother.
The memory made me feel sick.
Maya continued.
“You said we needed to get along.”
My eyes burned.
“Oh, baby.”
She wiped her cheeks.
“So I thought maybe it was my fault.”
I pulled her close.
“No.”
My voice broke.
“It wasn't your fault.”
Behind us, Denise sighed loudly.
“Marcus, are we really going to do this in the driveway?”
I stood.
“Yes.”
She blinked.
“Excuse me?”
“We're going to address what you've done.”
Denise's face flushed.
“You're letting a teenager manipulate you.”
I held up the phone.
“These are your words.”
She looked away.
“You don't understand the context.”
“Then explain why you told my daughter her dead mother didn't make her special.”
Silence.
Jordan slowly turned toward his mother.
“Mom?”
Denise ignored him.
I continued.
“Explain why you threatened to throw Maya out.”
She clenched her jaw.
“I was frustrated.”
“Frustrated?”
My voice rose.
“You made a child afraid to come home!”
Several neighbors were outside.
I realized our voices were carrying.
I lowered mine.
I wasn't going to turn Maya's pain into a neighborhood spectacle.
“Jordan, please take Maya inside.”
Maya grabbed my hand.
“Daddy, don't leave me.”
I looked into her eyes.
“I'm coming inside too. I just need to make one phone call.”
She hesitated.
Jordan stepped closer.
“Maya, I'll stay with you.”
She looked at him.
For a moment, something passed between them.
An understanding I couldn't read.
Then she nodded.
They walked inside together.
I watched until the door closed.
Then I turned toward Denise.
“I want you to stay somewhere else tonight.”
Her mouth fell open.
“You're throwing me out?”
“I'm asking for space while I make sure Maya is safe.”
“This is my house too!”
“We'll address the legal arrangements properly.”
Denise laughed bitterly.
“You think you can get rid of me that easily?”
I didn't answer.
I called my attorney, Camille Brooks.
She'd handled my business matters for years.
I explained the confrontation and the suspicious document.
Her voice became serious.
“Preserve every message and don't alter the original files.”
“I will.”
“Is Maya safe?”
“Yes. She's inside with Jordan.”
“Good. We also need to discuss the vehicle title and any possible forgery.”
I looked toward Denise.
She was pacing beside the driveway.
Then Camille asked something unexpected.
“Marcus, did Denise have access to your financial accounts?”
I hesitated.
“Some household accounts.”
“What about your business records?”
“She sometimes handled paperwork when my assistant was unavailable.”
A pause.
“Please don't give her any additional access until we've reviewed the situation.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why?”
“Because a forged vehicle authorization may not be the only concern.”
After the call, I walked inside.
Maya sat on the sofa.
Jordan was beside her.
They weren't speaking.
But Jordan had placed a glass of water on the table.
I sat in front of them.
“Maya, I need to ask you one more question.”
She nodded.
“Did Denise ever ask you to sign paperwork?”
Her expression changed.
Jordan looked sharply toward her.
My heart sank.
“Maya?”
She whispered, “Yes.”
I took a breath.
“What paperwork?”
“She said it was for college.”
I felt cold.
“When?”
“Two weeks ago.”
I looked at Jordan.
His face had gone pale.
Then he whispered, “Marcus, there's something you need to know.”
I turned.
He swallowed.
“Mom told me Maya wasn't supposed to find out about the account.”
My stomach tightened.
“What account?”
Jordan looked toward the front door.
May you like
Then back at me.
“The one with her mother's money.”
