Chapter 5
Nobody spoke for several seconds after Marcus ended the call.
I stared at Simone's phone.
"He promised my house to someone?"
Denise looked concerned.
"It may be a bluff. But we have to treat it seriously."
Grandma reached for my hand.
"What do we do?"
Denise explained that we should place alerts with the credit bureaus, notify the county recorder and relevant lenders of suspected fraud, and consult a real estate litigation specialist about protecting our interests.
She would help coordinate everything.
Then she looked at me.
"Maya, I want you to understand something."
I swallowed.
"What?"
"You're eighteen. These decisions belong to you now. Your grandmother can support you, but nobody should make them without your consent."
For a strange moment, I felt terrified.
I had spent my entire life being told what to do.
Now an attorney was telling me I had a voice.
I nodded.
"I want to protect the house."
"Then that's where we'll start."
By lunchtime, I had contacted the credit bureaus and placed freezes on my reports.
Denise helped us prepare written fraud notices.
We also filed a police report.
A detective named Aaron Mitchell took our statement.
He listened without interrupting.
When I finished explaining the forged signature, he asked whether Marcus had ever pressured me into sharing passwords or identification.
I remembered the school form.
The documents stored in my bedroom.
And how Marcus had insisted on helping me open my first bank account.
Detective Mitchell wrote everything down.
"Preserve your messages," he said. "Don't confront him about evidence we haven't reviewed."
I agreed.
Then he asked whether my mother might cooperate.
I stared at the table.
"I don't know."
That evening, Claire called me seventeen times.
I ignored the first sixteen.
On the seventeenth, Grandma sat beside me.
"Answer if you want," she said. "You don't have to."
I answered.
"Hello?"
My mother was crying.
"Maya, sweetheart, please come home."
I closed my eyes.
"Why?"
"Because everything has gotten out of control."
"Who's responsible for that?"
She went quiet.
Then she whispered, "Marcus left."
I sat straighter.
"What?"
"He packed two bags and drove away this afternoon."
Grandma looked at me.
"Did he say where he was going?" I asked.
"No."
"Did he take anything?"
My mother hesitated.
"Some paperwork."
"What paperwork?"
"I don't know."
I heard her breathing unevenly.
Then she said, "Maya, there are people calling the house."
"What people?"
"They say Marcus owes them money."
My stomach tightened.
"How much?"
"I don't know!"
Her voice broke.
"He told me his company was expanding. He said we would be wealthy by Christmas."
I stared at the wall.
"Mom, did you give him my college money?"
Silence.
Then a soft sob.
"Yes."
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
It was one thing to see her signature on paper.
It was another to hear her admit it.
"Why?"
"He said it was an investment."
"With whose money?"
"Maya, I thought—"
"With whose money, Mom?"
She whispered, "Yours."
My eyes filled.
"I worked extra shifts because you told me we couldn't afford my college application fees."
She began crying harder.
"I know."
"You watched me skip meals to save fifteen dollars."
"I'm sorry."
"You watched me worry that I wouldn't have enough to go to nursing school."
"Maya, please."
"And all that time, you had access to money Dad left me?"
She didn't answer.
I couldn't stop the tears.
"How could you?"
Her sobbing filled the phone.
Finally, she whispered, "I trusted him."
I wiped my face.
"You were supposed to protect me."
"I know."
"Did you know he was trying to sell the house?"
"No!"
The answer came quickly.
Almost too quickly.
"Did you know about the loan?"
"I thought he was applying for a business loan."
"Using my signature?"
"No. Maya, I swear."
I wanted to believe her.
That frightened me more than anything.
Because I had wanted to believe her so many times before.
Then my mother said something unexpected.
"There's a locked drawer in Marcus's office."
I looked at Grandma.
"He never let me open it," Claire continued. "But after he left, I found the key."
"What was inside?"
"Receipts. Letters. Names."
She paused.
"And a photograph."
I frowned.
"What photograph?"
My mother started crying again.
"It's a picture of your father."
My heart stopped.
"What?"
"Daniel."
I gripped the phone.
"Why would Marcus have a picture of Dad?"
"I don't know."
I looked at Grandma.
She looked as shocked as I felt.
My father had died years before Marcus became part of our family.
At least, that was what I believed.
My mother continued.
"The photograph was taken outside a building. There's another man standing beside Daniel."
"Who?"
She whispered, "Marcus."
I felt a chill spread across my skin.
"That's impossible."
"I thought so too."
Grandma reached for the phone.
"Claire, when was the picture taken?"
My mother glanced at it.
"The date on the back says May 2014."
Grandma went completely still.
I looked at her.
"Grandma?"
She didn't answer.
"Grandma, what is it?"
She slowly lowered her hand.
"May 2014 was the month before your father died."
Suddenly, Marcus was no longer just a man who had married my mother.
He was someone who had known my father.
Someone who had kept that connection hidden.
I spoke into the phone.
"Mom, do not touch anything else in that drawer."
She sounded frightened.
"Why?"
"Because we're coming to get those documents."
Grandma grabbed her keys.
But before we reached the door, my mother screamed.
I heard a loud crash through the phone.
Then Marcus's voice.
May you like
"Claire, who are you talking to?"
The call disconnected.
