Chapter 2
Denise didn't move toward the stairs.
She stood beside the dining table with her arms folded, staring at Dad as though she expected him to laugh.
He didn't.
"Marcus, you cannot be serious."
Dad looked exhausted.
"Pack what you need for tonight. We'll discuss everything else through an attorney."
Her expression changed.
"An attorney?"
"Yes."
She laughed bitterly.
"All because your daughter threw another tantrum?"
I reached for my phone.
"This isn't about a tantrum."
Denise turned sharply.
"Maya, stay out of this."
I shook my head.
"No."
Dad held out his hand.
"Show me the message."
For a moment, I couldn't move.
I had spent so many years begging him to listen that hearing those words felt almost unreal.
I unlocked my phone.
Then opened the conversation.
Denise had sent the message that morning while Dad was at work.
I handed him the screen.
He read silently.
His expression changed.
Then he read it again.
Finally, he looked up.
"Denise, what is this?"
She crossed her arms.
"Exactly what it says."
Dad turned the phone toward her.
"You told Maya she had thirty days to remove her belongings because the house is being transferred into your name?"
My stomach tightened.
There it was.
The sentence I had been trying to make him understand.
Denise shrugged.
"We discussed estate planning."
Dad stared.
"We discussed updating our wills."
"Same difference."
"No, it isn't."
She rolled her eyes.
"Marcus, don't pretend you don't know what I'm talking about."
Dad's voice became cold.
"I never agreed to give you this house."
Denise stopped smiling.
I looked at him.
"Wait."
He turned.
"What?"
I swallowed.
"This house belonged to Mom."
Dad's eyes softened.
"I know."
I looked between them.
"Then why would Denise think she could take it?"
Nobody answered.
My mother had inherited the property from her parents.
She and Dad renovated it together after they married.
When she died, I was thirteen.
Dad explained that her estate documents provided for my future ownership interest while allowing him to continue living in the house.
I didn't understand the legal details then.
I only knew Mom wanted me to have a permanent home.
A place I could always return to.
But over the years, Denise had treated the house like her personal kingdom.
She replaced Mom's curtains.
Removed her photographs.
Turned her sewing room into a private dressing room.
Then she began telling visitors that Dad had bought the house for her.
I corrected her once.
She didn't speak to me for a week.
Now Dad was staring at the message.
"Where did you get the idea that the house could be transferred to you?"
Denise's expression hardened.
"Your wife should have financial security."
"That's not what I asked."
She stepped closer.
"You promised to take care of me."
Dad nodded.
"And I have."
She gave a sharp laugh.
"Really?"
He looked around the room.
"The house, the cars, your business expenses, the vacations."
I felt uncomfortable hearing him list everything.
But Denise didn't look embarrassed.
She looked furious.
"So now you're keeping score?"
Dad shook his head.
"No. I'm asking why you've been threatening my daughter with property you don't own."
Denise's eyes flashed.
"Because she's twenty-two and needs to stop acting entitled!"
I finally spoke.
"I wasn't asking you for anything."
She turned toward me.
"You were planning to move back after graduation."
"Because Dad invited me."
"You should get your own place."
"I have an apartment."
She stopped.
I continued.
"I came home because Dad asked me to help organize the family business accounts."
Dad looked at her.
"Which you knew."
Denise said nothing.
I took a breath.
"And because this is still my family home."
Her face twisted.
"That's exactly the attitude I'm talking about."
Dad raised his hand.
"Enough."
Denise looked stunned.
He continued.
"You're going to stay with your sister tonight."
She laughed.
"And if I refuse?"
Dad looked toward me.
Then back at her.
"We can discuss temporary arrangements with counsel. But you are not threatening Maya again."
Denise stared at him.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then she grabbed her purse.
"Fine."
She stormed toward the stairs.
I heard a bedroom door slam.
Dad exhaled slowly.
I stared at him.
"Do you really mean it?"
He looked confused.
"Mean what?"
"That I belong here."
His face changed.
"Maya."
My eyes filled.
"Because I've spent four years feeling like I don't."
He stepped closer.
"I'm sorry."
I looked away.
Those words weren't enough.
Not yet.
He seemed to understand.
"I should have listened sooner."
I nodded.
Then my phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number.
I opened it.
My stomach dropped.
Attached was a photograph of a document.
At the top were the words:
TRANSFER OF PROPERTY INTEREST.
Beneath them was my father's name.
And a signature that looked exactly like his.
I showed him.
His expression drained.
"Where did you get this?"
"It just came."
He stared at the page.
Then whispered something that frightened me.
"I never signed that."
Before I could answer, we heard Denise's voice upstairs.
She was speaking on the phone.
Loudly enough for us to hear.
"Don't worry. The paperwork has already been filed."
May you like
Dad slowly looked toward the staircase.
And for the first time, I realized my stepmother might have been planning much more than an argument.
