Chapter 2
I stared at my daughter.
For a moment, I thought I had misunderstood.
"The money Grandma left you?"
Maya nodded.
Her hands shook around the envelope.
Denise stood behind me, breathing hard.
"Marcus, she's confused."
I didn't look at my wife.
I kept my eyes on Maya.
"Sweetheart, what are you talking about?"
She swallowed.
"Grandma's inheritance."
My heart tightened.
My mother, Evelyn, had died three years earlier.
She had been a proud, hardworking woman who spent thirty-five years teaching elementary school.
She wasn't rich.
But she saved carefully.
When she died, she left Maya a college fund and a small investment account.
I had promised my mother that money would help my daughter begin her life.
I remembered holding her hand in the hospital.
She had looked at me and whispered,
"Marcus, make sure my baby girl never has to beg anybody for help."
I promised.
Now Maya was standing in my bedroom, telling me someone had stolen that money.
I felt physically sick.
"What happened to the inheritance?"
Maya looked toward Denise.
My wife stepped forward.
"Marcus, before she starts making accusations—"
"Be quiet."
Denise froze.
I had never spoken to her that way.
But I couldn't bear another lie.
I turned back to Maya.
"Tell me everything."
She opened the envelope.
Inside were bank letters.
Transaction records.
And a printed account statement.
Maya handed me the first page.
I recognized the institution immediately.
Her grandmother's trust account.
The balance should have been approximately eighty thousand dollars.
Instead, the statement showed less than twelve hundred.
I gripped the paper.
My eyes moved across the page.
Withdrawal.
Transfer.
Withdrawal.
Transfer.
Thousands of dollars disappearing over several months.
My breathing became shallow.
"Maya..."
She began crying.
"I didn't understand at first."
I looked at her.
"How did you find this?"
"I went to the bank yesterday."
"Why?"
She wiped her cheeks.
"Because I needed money for my final nursing school semester."
My heart sank.
I had already paid her tuition.
At least, I thought I had.
"What happened to the money I gave you for school?"
Maya looked confused.
"You stopped paying last year."
I stared.
"What?"
She nodded.
"Denise said you couldn't afford it anymore."
My entire body went cold.
I remembered transferring tuition money to our household account.
I remembered Denise offering to handle the payments because I was traveling so often.
I remembered thanking her.
Now I understood something terrible.
Maya had been working late shifts to cover bills I had already paid.
"How much do you owe the school?" I asked.
She looked embarrassed.
"Seven thousand four hundred dollars."
I closed my eyes.
I had transferred more than twenty thousand dollars toward her education that year.
And my daughter was in debt.
Denise finally spoke.
"Marcus, you're letting her manipulate you."
I turned slowly.
"Manipulate me?"
She folded her arms.
"She has always been spoiled."
I stared at her.
My daughter was standing in the doorway, crying because she thought she had disappointed me.
And Denise called her spoiled.
Something inside me hardened.
"Do not insult her again."
Denise's mouth tightened.
"You can't seriously believe I stole anything."
I held up the statement.
"Then explain these transfers."
She glanced at the page.
Her eyes moved quickly.
"Those were authorized expenses."
"Authorized by whom?"
"By Maya."
Maya shook her head.
"No."
Denise pointed at her.
"You signed the paperwork!"
My daughter stepped backward.
"I signed the form you gave me."
I froze.
"What form?"
Maya looked at me.
"Denise said Grandma's account needed to be updated."
My stomach tightened.
"When?"
"Last September."
Denise looked away.
Maya continued.
"She told me the bank needed my signature because I turned twenty-one."
I stared at my wife.
"What did you have her sign?"
Denise's face had gone pale.
"Standard financial documents."
I shook my head.
"Show me."
"I don't have them."
"Then tell me exactly what they were."
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
I pulled out my phone.
"I'm calling the bank."
Denise grabbed my wrist.
"Marcus, don't."
I looked at her hand.
Then at her face.
"Let go."
She released me.
I called the bank's fraud department.
After verifying my identity and explaining my concerns, I was told that Maya would need to authorize the release of her account information.
I handed her the phone.
She completed the verification.
Then listened quietly.
Her expression changed.
"What?"
She looked at me.
I felt my stomach drop.
The representative had confirmed that a person listed as an authorized financial agent had initiated several transfers.
That person was Denise.
I took the phone after Maya authorized the representative to speak with me.
"How much was transferred?"
The representative explained that the bank would need to complete a formal review.
But the preliminary records showed more than sixty-eight thousand dollars had left the account.
I felt dizzy.
Sixty-eight thousand dollars.
My mother's life savings.
My daughter's future.
Gone.
I ended the call.
Denise was sitting on the bed now.
Her hands were clasped tightly.
I looked at her.
"Where is the money?"
She stared at the floor.
"Marcus..."
"WHERE IS IT?"
Maya flinched.
I immediately lowered my voice.
"Tell me where it went."
Denise began crying.
But something about those tears made me feel nothing.
I had seen her cry before.
When she wanted a vacation.
When I questioned an expensive purchase.
When she wanted me to feel guilty.
Now I wondered how many of those tears had been real.
"I made some investments," she whispered.
My stomach twisted.
"What investments?"
She shook her head.
"Things were supposed to work out."
I stared at her.
"What things?"
Denise looked toward the window.
Then she whispered,
"I was trying to build something for us."
I laughed bitterly.
"Using my daughter's inheritance?"
She began crying harder.
"I was going to put it back."
"When?"
She said nothing.
I stepped closer.
"Denise, where is the money?"
She looked at me.
And for the first time, I saw genuine terror in her eyes.
"It's gone."
I felt my knees weaken.
Maya made a small sound behind me.
I turned.
She was staring at Denise.
Her lips trembled.
"Grandma's money?"
Denise looked away.
Maya began sobbing.
I crossed the room and pulled her into my arms.
"It's okay, sweetheart."
But I knew it wasn't okay.
Not yet.
I looked over her shoulder at Denise.
"You're going to tell me everything."
Denise wiped her face.
Then she said something that made my blood run cold.
"You don't understand, Marcus."
I stared at her.
"What don't I understand?"
She swallowed.
"I didn't lose all the money."
I felt my heart pound.
"Then where is the rest?"
She looked toward the bedroom door.
Her voice dropped to a whisper.
"Your brother has it."
I stopped breathing.
My younger brother.
Anthony.
The man I had trusted with my business.
The man who had hugged Maya at my mother's funeral.
The man who had promised to protect his niece.
I stared at Denise.
"What did you just say?"
She began shaking.
"Anthony told me it was safe."
My phone suddenly rang.
Anthony's name appeared on the screen.
I answered.
Before I could speak, he said,
"Marcus, don't believe anything Denise tells you."
May you like
Then he whispered,
"Because if she starts talking, we're both going down."
