Chapter 7
The independent review took six weeks.
During that time, I focused on starting university, working part-time at a local bookstore, and rebuilding a life that didn't depend on my family's approval.
Marcus sent messages occasionally.
He never demanded a response.
Sometimes he asked about my classes. Sometimes he sent a photograph of Noah holding a drawing he'd made for me.
I answered Noah's messages first.
He was too young to understand the adult mistakes surrounding him, and I wanted him to know that my love for him hadn't disappeared.
One evening, he called me from my mother's phone.
"Maya, are you still my sister?"
I sat on my bed and closed my eyes.
"Always."
"Even if you don't live here?"
"Even if I live on the moon."
He giggled.
Then his voice became serious.
"Dad says he's sorry."
I swallowed.
"Your dad has a lot to learn, buddy."
"Are you going to teach him?"
I almost laughed.
"I don't know. That's something he has to do himself."
Noah accepted that answer because children often understood more than adults gave them credit for.
Before hanging up, he asked whether I would attend his next school performance.
I promised I would try.
And this time, I kept the promise.
I sat in the second row of his school auditorium and watched him perform a short play about a lost puppy.
He spotted me in the audience and nearly forgot his lines.
Afterward, he ran into my arms.
"You came!"
I hugged him.
"Of course I did."
Marcus stood several feet away.
He looked at me but didn't approach until I nodded.
"Thank you for coming," he said.
"Noah asked me to."
"I know."
We watched Noah run toward our mother.
Then Marcus spoke quietly.
"I've been seeing a counselor."
I looked at him.
"For what?"
"To understand why I kept making you feel like you had to compete for a place in my life."
I didn't know what to say.
He continued.
"I thought treating both children exactly the same meant giving the youngest more attention because he needed more help. I didn't see how often I was asking you to sacrifice."
"Because you thought I could handle it."
"Yes."
He looked down.
"And because I didn't want to face how much I'd hurt you."
I folded my arms.
"What happens when things get difficult again? When Noah needs something and I need something at the same time?"
"I'll have to make better choices. I can't promise I'll never make a mistake, but I can promise I won't expect you to disappear because you're older."
I studied his face.
For the first time, he wasn't asking me to forgive him so that he could feel better.
He was telling me what he intended to change.
"I need time," I said.
"I understand."
He didn't try to hug me.
He didn't ask me to come home.
He simply nodded and walked toward Noah.
That mattered more than I wanted to admit.
A week later, Daniel called with the preliminary findings.
The review had identified several questionable transactions in the charitable foundation's accounts. Some records were incomplete, and the approval process had not met the standards expected by the board.
However, the available evidence did not establish that Arthur had personally taken the money.
The reviewers recommended a fuller investigation by the foundation's current trustees and independent counsel.
I listened carefully.
"What happens to Grandpa?"
"That depends on what the further investigation establishes. The board may need to review his historical decisions and determine whether any corrective action is appropriate."
I didn't feel victorious.
I felt tired.
Part of me had wanted a single piece of paper that would explain everything, assign blame, and let me move forward.
Instead, I was learning that truth could be complicated.
My grandfather had hidden my parentage.
He had delayed the letter.
He had suspended a review that David believed was necessary.
Those facts were serious enough without inventing crimes I couldn't prove.
I asked Daniel to proceed with the recommended independent investigation.
Two days later, Arthur called.
"I understand you've given those records to outside reviewers."
"Yes."
"You could damage the family's reputation."
"If the records are accurate, an honest review won't create the problem. It will help us understand it."
"You don't know what you're doing."
I felt my old instinct to apologize rise in my throat.
Then I let it pass.
"I'm not trying to destroy you, Grandpa. I'm trying to understand what happened."
"Your father would never have wanted this."
I looked at David's photograph on my desk.
"Which father are you talking about?"
Silence.
Then Arthur's voice became quieter.
"David was my son. I loved him."
"Then why did you make it so difficult for him to live honestly?"
He didn't answer.
I continued.
"You don't have to agree with every decision David made. But you don't get to erase him from my life because his choices embarrassed you."
Arthur sighed.
"I thought I was protecting the family."
"You protected the family's image. Those are not the same thing."
I ended the call.
My hands were shaking, but I didn't regret what I'd said.
That night, I received a message from an unfamiliar number.
It was from my grandfather.
I have something that belonged to David. I should have given it to you years ago.
Attached was a photograph of a small wooden box.
I stared at it for a long time.
Then I replied.
What is it?
May you like
His answer came a minute later.
Everything I was too afraid to tell you.
