Chapter 4
Jayden asked whether I would meet him somewhere public.
I chose a coffee shop near campus.
He arrived before me and stood when I approached. His cornrows were pulled back neatly. He looked as if he hadn’t slept.
“I’m not asking you to forgive me before I explain,” he said.
“Good.”
We sat across from each other.
“When did you learn who my father was?”
“Three months after we met. You showed me a picture from Thanksgiving.”
“And you recognized him?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you tell me then?”
Jayden looked down.
“I knew what my mother believed. I knew my father said he was innocent. But I didn’t have records. I didn’t know what you believed about the case.”
“You could have asked.”
“I should have.”
He didn’t blame my father for his own silence. I needed that.
“Did you keep dating me to get information?”
“No.”
“Have you ever searched my things?”
“No.”
“Asked me questions because you wanted evidence?”
He hesitated.
“Once. I asked whether your father still kept an office at home. Then I hated myself for it.”
I remembered that conversation.
I had been complaining about Dad taking business calls during dinner.
The memory hurt, but it also sounded small enough to be true.
“Why come to the party?”
“Because you wanted me there. Tiana said she planned to confront him privately, not expose him in front of everyone.”
He rubbed his hands together.
“When he told me to leave, I thought I could just go. Then he talked about whether I belonged.”
“You wanted him to admit it.”
“Yes.”
I breathed out slowly.
“I wanted one night where my family respected you.”
“I know.”
We sat quietly.
Then I asked about his father.
Jayden told me Isaiah had worked at Grant Development for twelve years. After the missing money was discovered, investigators received records that appeared to connect him to the transfers.
Isaiah’s access credentials were on several files.
He accepted a plea after being warned that trial could bring a much longer sentence.
“My mother sold everything trying to defend him,” Jayden said. “He signed because he thought we’d survive if he came home sooner.”
I could barely look at him.
“Did my father promise him something?”
“He says Marcus promised to make sure we were okay.”
“And did he?”
Jayden shook his head.
I thought of Dad giving money publicly to scholarship funds. I thought of the photographs where he stood beside enormous checks.
“I want to meet your father,” I said.
“You don’t owe me that.”
“I’m not doing it because I owe you. I want to hear him.”
Jayden’s mother, Renee, helped arrange an approved visit.
Before we went, I met her at their apartment.
She hugged me once, briefly.
“I’m sorry your birthday turned into that,” she said.
“I’m sorry I didn’t know.”
“You were a child when it happened.”
She said it firmly, before I could put eight years of guilt on myself.
At the prison, the security process made everything feel painfully real. I placed my belongings where I was told and followed Jayden into the visiting room.
Isaiah sat at a table near the back.
He stood when he saw his son.
Then he looked at me.
“You must be Maya.”
I nodded.
He had Jayden’s eyes and a careful way of speaking.
“I don’t know what to say,” I admitted.
“Start with what you want to know.”
I asked about the accounts.
Isaiah said he had noticed unusual transfers and taken questions to Dad. Dad told him they were confidential transactions connected to a project acquisition.
When investigators arrived, the explanation changed.
“I had copies,” Isaiah said. “I left them with Leon because I didn’t trust keeping them at home.”
“Why didn’t the court see them?”
“Leon said he couldn’t find them. I thought he’d changed his mind about helping.”
Tiana’s folder had been in Leon’s home office.
I felt anger rise toward another man I had loved.
“Maybe he hid them,” I said.
“Maybe,” Isaiah replied. “I’m glad somebody found them.”
He didn’t speak as if freedom were guaranteed. He knew too much about waiting.
“Did Dad ever visit you?”
“Once.”
“What did he say?”
“He asked me to keep his family out of it.”
I swallowed.
“He told everyone you betrayed him.”
Isaiah looked at Jayden.
“My son knows who I am. That’s mattered more than I can explain.”
When the visit ended, Jayden hugged his father. I stood beside them feeling helpless.
Isaiah turned to me.
“You don’t have to choose between loving your father and telling the truth.”
“I don’t know if I can love him the same way.”
“You don’t have to decide today.”
Outside, I sat on a low wall and cried.
Jayden stood nearby until I reached for his hand.
“I’m still hurt that you kept this from me,” I said.
“I know.”
“But I believe you about how we met.”
His eyes filled.
“Thank you.”
“We have to stop hiding things.”
“We will.”
That night, Tiana called.
She had found one more item in Leon’s files: a letter addressed to Isaiah’s attorney.
May you like
It was dated two weeks before Isaiah signed his plea.
Leon had never mailed it.
