Chapter 3
We checked Jalisa’s savings account at the kitchen table.
Not the next day.
Not after talking to Charisse.
Immediately.
Jalisa still had online access, but she had forgotten the password.
We reset it.
When the account opened, she stared at the screen.
I watched her face collapse.
Balance:
$312.
She made a sound I had never heard from her before.
Not a cry.
More like air leaving her body.
“No.”
I looked at the transaction history.
Her grandmother had deposited $8,000 three years earlier.
Over time, the money had been withdrawn.
Small amounts.
$300.
$500.
$750.
A few larger transfers.
Most went into Charisse’s personal account.
Jalisa shook her head.
“No, no.”
I kept scrolling.
Then I found the biggest transfer.
$3,500.
Two months earlier.
“What happened two months ago?”
Jalisa looked sick.
“Mama bought new furniture.”
The living room set.
The one Charisse said she bought using a bonus.
I leaned back.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then Jalisa stood.
“I’m asking her.”
“Wait.”
“No.”
Her voice cracked.
“She stole from both of us.”
I stood too.
“Jalisa.”
“She made me think your daughter paid for nothing.”
“What?”
Jalisa froze.
I stared at her.
“What did she tell you?”
She looked ashamed.
“Mama always said Amara got everything.”
“Like what?”
“The house.”
“She doesn’t own the house.”
“She said she basically does because you’ll leave it to her.”
“What else?”
“She said you paid for everything for Amara but made her beg for help for me.”
I closed my eyes.
So that was how Charisse justified it.
Not only to herself.
To Jalisa.
“She said your money was mostly tied up in Amara’s accounts.”
“That is not true.”
“I know that now.”
Jalisa’s voice got smaller.
“She said when she used money from those accounts, she was balancing things.”
“Balancing?”
“That’s the word she used.”
My stomach turned.
Jalisa started pacing.
“I thought you didn’t care about me.”
That hurt.
“I always cared about you.”
“I know.”
“Did I ever refuse when you needed something important?”
She shook her head.
“No.”
“Then why didn’t you ask me about tuition?”
“Mama said you already said no.”
I went still.
“I never knew you needed tuition help.”
Jalisa’s face crumpled.
“She lied to everybody.”
Before I could answer, the front door opened.
Charisse walked in carrying shopping bags.
She stopped when she saw us.
“What?”
Jalisa turned.
“Where is my money?”
Charisse’s expression changed.
Just slightly.
“What money?”
“My savings.”
Charisse put down the bags.
“Why are you going through accounts?”
“It’s my account.”
“You gave me permission to manage it.”
“I did not give you permission to empty it.”
Charisse looked at me.
“You put her up to this.”
I laughed in disbelief.
“She asked me to check.”
“Of course she did.”
Jalisa stepped closer.
“Mama, where is my eight thousand dollars?”
“You spent some of it.”
“On what?”
“Things.”
“What things?”
“College.”
“No.”
Jalisa pointed at the printed statement.
“Amara’s college account paid my tuition.”
Charisse’s face hardened.
I watched her realize we knew.
Not some of it.
A lot.
“How much have you taken from both girls?”
Charisse stared at me.
“I have not taken from anybody.”
“Then explain the transfers.”
“I moved money where it was needed.”
“Without permission.”
“I’m the one who handles finances.”
“Not anymore.”
Her face changed.
“What?”
I reached into my pocket.
I placed three things on the table.
My bank card.
Her authorized-user card.
And a printed revocation form.
“As of this morning, you no longer have access to Amara’s accounts.”
“You can’t do that.”
“I already did.”
Her eyes flashed.
“You’re cutting me off?”
“From my daughter’s money? Yes.”
“What about household accounts?”
“I moved most shared funds into an account requiring dual authorization for large transfers.”
Charisse stared at me.
“You went to the bank behind my back?”
I almost laughed.
“You emptied two girls’ accounts behind theirs.”
Jalisa shook her head.
“Mama, answer me.”
Charisse turned toward her.
“I used some of your savings because this family had needs.”
“Your furniture was a need?”
“That furniture is for everybody.”
“I didn’t ask for it.”
“You use it.”
“That doesn’t make it mine.”
Charisse pointed at me.
“This is him talking.”
“No.”
Jalisa’s voice rose.
“This is me.”
The room went quiet.
Jalisa rarely challenged her mother.
I understood why.
Charisse stared at her.
Then something ugly appeared in her expression.
“After everything I have done for you.”
Jalisa recoiled.
I stepped between them.
“Don’t.”
Charisse turned on me.
“Stay out of it.”
“No.”
“She is my daughter.”
“And I am telling you not to guilt her because she asked where her money went.”
Charisse laughed bitterly.
“So now you’re protecting her too?”
“Yes.”
The answer surprised everyone.
Even me.
But it was true.
Whatever Charisse had done, Jalisa was not responsible.
She had been used too.
Charisse grabbed her purse.
“I’m leaving before I say something I regret.”
“Good idea.”
She glared at me.
Then walked out.
The door slammed.
Jalisa sank into a chair.
“She’ll hate me.”
“No.”
“She does that.”
“What?”
“When I disagree.”
Her eyes filled.
“She stops talking to me.”
I sat across from her.
“For how long?”
“Days sometimes.”
Another pattern.
Control through silence.
Punishment without shouting.
I thought of Amara apologizing.
Jalisa fearing abandonment.
Charisse had been running the house emotionally for years.
And I had mistaken quiet for peace.
Amara came downstairs.
She looked between us.
“What happened?”
Jalisa wiped her face.
“Nothing.”
Amara didn’t believe her.
Neither did I.
Jalisa took a breath.
Then looked at Amara.
“I found out Mom took my savings too.”
Amara’s eyes widened.
“How much?”
“Almost all.”
Amara sat beside her.
“That sucks.”
Jalisa laughed through tears.
“Yes.”
Then Amara did something I will never forget.
She reached into her pocket.
Pulled out a twenty-dollar bill.
And placed it in front of Jalisa.
“I have three hundred left.”
Jalisa stared at it.
“What are you doing?”
“You can borrow it.”
Jalisa covered her face.
“No.”
“You said your tank is almost empty.”
“I am not taking your money.”
“It’s okay.”
“No.”
Jalisa pushed it back.
“Amara, no.”
My daughter frowned.
“I trust you.”
That sentence broke Jalisa completely.
She started sobbing.
Amara hugged her.
Two girls whose money had been taken.
One teenager.
One grown woman.
Both taught that family meant surrendering whatever they had.
I watched them hold each other.
And I made myself a promise.
I would find every dollar Charisse had moved.
Every lie attached to it.
Every account she had touched.
Not because money mattered more than marriage.
Because trust did.
That evening, I pulled five years of statements.
I made a spreadsheet.
Transfers.
Withdrawals.
Payments.
I followed every dollar I could.
By midnight, the total was over $24,000.
Most of it came from Amara’s educational savings.
Some from Jalisa.
Some from our shared emergency fund.
And one payment caught my attention.
$6,000.
Sent six months earlier to a company called Bayou Ridge Holdings.
I had never heard of it.
I searched the name.
Property management.
Then I found an address linked to the payment.
A small rental house fifteen minutes away.
I stared at the screen.
Charisse had never mentioned any rental property.
I checked county records.
The property owner was Bayou Ridge Holdings.
Registered agent:
Charisse Batiste.
My wife.
I sat back slowly.
She had not only been moving our daughters’ money.
May you like
She had been building something with it.
And she had never told me it existed.
