Chapter 2
My mother tried to grab the envelope again.
Grandma stepped between us.
"Claire, sit down."
"That belongs to me!"
"No," Grandma answered. "It belongs to Maya."
I stared at the envelope.
My father had been dead for almost eleven years.
I remembered his laughter.
His Sunday pancakes.
The way he used to carry me on his shoulders whenever we went to the park.
I remembered the last morning I saw him alive.
He kissed my forehead before leaving for work.
"Be brave today, princess."
Those were his final words to me.
Three hours later, a police officer knocked on our front door.
My mother told me there had been an accident.
After that, she refused to talk about him.
Whenever I asked questions, she said remembering hurt too much.
And now Grandma was holding a letter he had written for my eighteenth birthday.
"Why didn't I know about this?" I asked.
Grandma looked heartbroken.
"Because I promised your father I would give it to you when you were old enough."
My mother's voice cracked.
"You promised me you wouldn't interfere."
Grandma turned toward her.
"I promised you I would never turn Maya against you. Those are two different things."
Marcus cleared his throat.
"This family needs to calm down."
I looked at him.
"Did you know about the house?"
He hesitated.
That hesitation answered everything.
"You knew," I whispered.
My mother stepped forward.
"Maya, don't start accusing people."
"How long?"
Neither answered.
"How long have you both known the house belonged to me?"
Grandma spoke.
"Claire knew from the beginning."
I felt something inside my chest collapse.
"From the beginning?"
Grandma nodded.
"When your father died, you received a life insurance benefit. Most of it was set aside for your future. I used my own retirement savings to purchase this house so you could grow up somewhere secure."
My mother folded her arms.
"I raised her in it."
"And no one is denying that," Grandma said. "But raising your child doesn't make you the owner of her property."
I turned toward my mother.
"Every time you said I should be grateful you let me live here..."
She looked away.
"Don't twist my words."
"Every time you threatened to throw me out..."
"Maya!"
"You knew!"
My voice broke.
For years, I had lived with the fear that one mistake could make me homeless.
A bad grade.
A forgotten chore.
An argument with Marcus.
I had apologized for things I hadn't done because I was terrified of losing my bedroom.
My mother had watched me live with that fear.
And she had known the truth.
Grandma touched my arm.
"Sweetheart, let's go somewhere quiet."
Marcus immediately moved toward the door.
"Nobody needs to leave. We're family."
Grandma gave him a cold look.
"Then perhaps you should have behaved like family."
My mother stepped closer.
"Mom, you're making a mistake."
Grandma stared at her.
"No, Claire. My mistake was trusting you to tell your daughter the truth."
She handed me the envelope.
My fingers trembled as I opened it.
Inside was a folded letter.
The paper had yellowed slightly.
The first line nearly brought me to my knees.
My beautiful Maya,
If you're reading this, then you've become the young woman I always knew you would be.
I pressed my hand over my mouth.
Grandma guided me onto the sofa.
I kept reading.
Your mother and I have worked hard to make sure you never have to choose between your education and a safe home. Whatever happens in life, I want you to remember that you deserve both.
I hope you are surrounded by people who love you without conditions.
If anyone ever makes you feel like a burden, remember this: you were the greatest gift of my life.
Love always,
Dad.
Tears fell onto the page.
For eleven years, I had wondered whether my father would have been proud of me.
Now I had his answer.
But there was something else.
At the bottom of the letter, he had written:
Ask Grandma about the education account. She has everything you need.
I looked up.
"What education account?"
My mother's expression changed instantly.
Grandma frowned.
"The account your father established before he died."
Marcus reached for a glass of water.
His hand was shaking.
Grandma noticed.
So did I.
"What account?" I repeated.
Grandma opened her folder again.
"Your father purchased life insurance. Part of the benefit was reserved in a custodial investment account for your education. I helped arrange the paperwork, but your mother was named custodian."
I looked at Claire.
"Mom?"
She swallowed.
"That money was used for family expenses."
Grandma's eyes widened.
"What?"
My mother lifted her chin.
"Raising a child isn't free."
"Daniel left instructions for that money to support Maya's future," Grandma said.
"And I supported her future!"
Marcus suddenly stepped in.
"Claire has carried this family financially for years. Nobody here understands the pressure she's been under."
Grandma turned slowly.
"Then perhaps you can explain why the property taxes are overdue."
Silence.
I looked between them.
"What?"
Grandma pulled out another paper.
"I checked the county records last week. There are unpaid tax installments and a pending inquiry about placing a loan against this property."
My mother looked at Marcus.
He didn't return her gaze.
Grandma continued.
"Someone has been trying to borrow money against a house neither of you owns."
Marcus's expression hardened.
"You're making serious accusations."
"Yes," Grandma said. "I am."
My mother began crying.
"Mom, please. This doesn't have to become ugly."
Grandma shook her head.
"It became ugly when you tried to throw your daughter out."
I folded my father's letter carefully.
My hands were still trembling, but something had changed.
For the first time in years, I wasn't afraid to ask a question.
"How much money did Dad leave me?"
My mother stared at the floor.
Marcus moved toward the hallway.
"I need to make a call."
Grandma blocked his path.
"Not until you answer one question."
He stopped.
"What?"
Grandma held up a copy of a bank notification.
"Why did a lender contact me yesterday asking whether I had authorized a two-hundred-thousand-dollar loan against Maya's house?"
Marcus went completely still.
My mother gasped.
"Two hundred thousand?"
I looked at her.
For the first time that afternoon, her shock appeared genuine.
Marcus slowly lowered his phone.
And I realized my mother might not be the only person in that room hiding something.
Grandma's next words made everything worse.
"The application carries Claire's signature."
May you like
She turned the page.
"And a signature claiming to be Maya's."
