Chapter 6
The letter was dated September 14, twelve years earlier.
Grandma Ruth's handwriting was unmistakable.
Large letters.
Careful spacing.
The little heart she always drew beneath her signature.
I held the paper with trembling fingers.
Then read aloud.
Arthur,
I believe Diane is being pressured to keep Maya away from you.
Marcus has been controlling her money and threatening to leave if she allows contact.
I have seen documents concerning an education account established for Maya.
I am afraid Marcus intends to use those funds for his business.
Please do not stop trying to reach your daughter.
She asks about you constantly.
Love,
Ruth.
I stared at the page.
The room went silent.
Arthur slowly took a breath.
"Ruth wrote this?"
I nodded.
Mom covered her mouth.
Marcus stepped forward.
"That old woman never knew what she was talking about."
I turned toward him.
"Don't talk about Grandma like that."
His face hardened.
I continued.
"She was trying to protect me."
Marcus laughed bitterly.
"Your grandmother spent her life interfering."
Arthur's voice became firm.
"Enough."
My stepfather looked at him.
Arthur continued.
"You don't get to insult the people who tried to help my daughter."
Marcus stepped closer.
"And what are you going to do about it?"
Arthur didn't move.
"Nothing you'll be able to use against me."
That answer surprised me.
Marcus looked disappointed.
As though he'd wanted Dad to lose control.
The neutral representative reminded everyone that we were there only to collect my belongings.
I nodded.
Then placed the letter carefully inside my folder.
I looked toward the wooden box.
Its broken lid lay beside the shredder.
I picked it up.
Tears filled my eyes.
Grandma Ruth had given it to me when I was six.
She told me to keep my most important memories inside.
Now Marcus had destroyed some of them.
I stared at him.
"Why?"
He rolled his eyes.
"It's a box."
I shook my head.
"It was mine."
He crossed his arms.
"You have plenty of other things."
I felt anger rising.
"That's not the point."
He laughed.
"Then what is?"
I looked directly at him.
"You didn't just want to keep Dad away."
His expression changed.
"You wanted to erase him."
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Mom whispered, "Maya..."
I turned toward her.
"Did you know he was destroying my pictures?"
She began crying.
"I didn't know about the box."
I stared at her.
For the first time, I couldn't tell whether I believed her.
I wanted to.
But too many lies had come before.
Arthur gently touched my shoulder.
"Sweetheart, let's finish packing."
I nodded.
We gathered my belongings.
Then left.
I didn't look back.
But as we drove away, I stared at the broken box in my lap.
And made myself a promise.
I would never again allow someone to decide which parts of my life I was permitted to remember.
That afternoon, Angela reviewed Grandma Ruth's letter.
She explained that it could be relevant to the financial investigation.
But she also warned us that old letters alone couldn't prove everything.
We needed bank records.
Account statements.
Supporting documents.
And evidence showing who had authorized each transaction.
I nodded.
I wanted justice.
Not guesses.
Then Angela asked me something unexpected.
"Maya, have you ever received statements from the education account?"
I shook my head.
"No."
"Did Marcus ever ask you to sign forms when you were younger?"
I thought for a moment.
Then remembered.
At sixteen, Marcus took me to the bank.
He said we needed to update my identification information.
I remembered signing two pages.
I remembered being nervous.
And I remembered him telling me not to read everything because we were running late.
My stomach twisted.
"Yes."
Angela sat straighter.
"When?"
I told her.
She made notes.
"Do you remember which bank?"
I nodded.
"First Metropolitan."
Arthur looked concerned.
Angela continued.
"We'll request the relevant records."
I stared at my hands.
I felt foolish again.
Then I remembered Dad's words.
I had been a child.
Trusting the adults responsible for me wasn't a mistake.
Using that trust against me was.
A week later, the bank provided records through the appropriate process.
Angela called us into her office.
Her expression was serious.
"Maya, the documents you signed at sixteen were supposed to update your account information."
I nodded.
"But?"
She opened a folder.
"An additional authorization was submitted around the same time."
My stomach tightened.
"What kind?"
"It appears to have expanded Marcus's ability to initiate certain transactions."
I stared at her.
"Did I sign that too?"
She hesitated.
"That's disputed. We'll need an independent examination."
I looked at Arthur.
His face was pale.
Angela continued.
"We've also found transfers into Marcus's dealership accounts."
My heart raced.
"How much?"
She took a breath.
"Approximately two hundred and seventy thousand dollars."
I stared.
That was more money than I'd ever imagined having.
Money Dad had worked to save.
Money meant for my education.
My future.
My opportunities.
I felt sick.
"Can we get it back?"
Angela answered carefully.
"We're pursuing the available legal remedies and tracing the funds."
I nodded.
Then she placed another document on the table.
"This is the dealership's most recent financial statement."
I frowned.
"Why?"
She pointed toward a line.
The business was in serious trouble.
Loans.
Unpaid suppliers.
Overdue taxes.
Marcus had been using my account while his dealership struggled.
My stomach tightened.
"Did he take the money because he was broke?"
Angela looked at me.
"That is one possible explanation. We need to establish what happened."
I stared at the figures.
For years, Marcus wore expensive suits.
Drove luxury cars.
Took Mom on vacations.
And acted as though he had built everything himself.
Now his business was collapsing.
I looked toward Arthur.
"Dad, he might have used my money to keep pretending he was successful."
Arthur's eyes filled.
He squeezed my hand.
Then Angela's phone rang.
She answered.
Her expression changed.
"What?"
I sat straighter.
She listened carefully.
Then said, "Please preserve everything."
She ended the call.
I swallowed.
"What happened?"
Angela looked toward Arthur.
Then at me.
"The bank has identified another attempted transfer."
My stomach dropped.
"When?"
"This morning."
I stared.
Marcus was still trying to move money.
Even after I found the documents.
Even after Angela began investigating.
I looked at Dad.
His face hardened.
Then Angela added something that frightened me.
"The attempted transfer wasn't directed to the dealership."
I swallowed.
"Where was it going?"
She took a breath.
"To an account opened in Diane's name."
My mother.
May you like
The woman who told me she didn't understand the money.
And suddenly, I realized she might have been more involved than she'd admitted.
