Chapter 7
Mrs. Lorraine Parker had always called me her little butterfly.
She was seventy-four years old.
She lived in a modest white house near the church my mother attended.
When I was small, she baked peach cobbler every Sunday.
She gave me birthday cards with five-dollar bills tucked inside.
And after my mother died, she brought food to our house every week for nearly three months.
I hadn't visited her in almost a year.
College had been busy.
Life had been busy.
That was what I always told myself.
Now I stood outside her hospital room, ashamed that I hadn't known she was sick.
Arthur gently touched my shoulder.
"Ready?"
I nodded.
We stepped inside.
Lorraine lay against a stack of pillows.
She looked smaller than I remembered.
Her gray hair was wrapped in a lavender scarf.
When she saw me, her face lit up.
"Maya?"
I crossed the room.
"Miss Lorraine."
She opened her arms.
I hugged her carefully.
"Oh, my sweet girl."
Her voice trembled.
"You graduated."
I nodded, trying not to cry.
"Yes, ma'am."
"I'm so proud of you."
That made my chest ache.
She had been proud of me without needing photographs.
Without needing credit.
Without asking for anything.
I sat beside her bed.
"Why didn't anyone tell me you were in the hospital?"
She smiled sadly.
"Didn't want to worry you during finals."
I looked at Arthur.
He lowered his eyes.
He had known.
Of course he had.
He had visited Lorraine while I was studying.
He had brought groceries to her house.
He had quietly helped.
Just as he always did.
I took her hand.
"Miss Lorraine, can I ask you something?"
She looked at me carefully.
"About Derek?"
I froze.
She sighed.
"I wondered when someone would come asking."
Arthur sat in the chair near the window.
Lorraine looked down at her hands.
"He came to see me last winter."
My stomach tightened.
"What did he want?"
"He said he was starting an investment fund for young business owners."
I felt sick.
"He told me it was connected to your future."
I squeezed her hand.
"My future?"
She nodded.
"He said he wanted to create something that would make your mother proud."
I closed my eyes.
Derek had used my name.
He had used my mother.
He had used everything that mattered to Lorraine.
"How much did you give him?"
She hesitated.
Then whispered, "Sixty thousand dollars."
My heart dropped.
"Miss Lorraine."
Tears filled her eyes.
"It was most of what I had saved."
I gripped her hand.
"I'm so sorry."
She shook her head.
"No, child. You didn't do anything."
But guilt flooded me anyway.
I had introduced Derek as a successful businessman.
I had told people he was generous.
I had believed every word he said.
Lorraine touched my cheek.
"Listen to me. Your father made his own choices."
I swallowed.
"Which father?"
She looked toward Arthur.
Then back at me.
"The one who hurt people."
Her answer nearly broke me.
***
Lorraine told us everything.
Derek had visited her three times.
He brought professional-looking documents.
He talked about safe returns.
He mentioned my grandmother's legacy.
He claimed he wanted to honor the women who had raised me.
At first, Lorraine refused.
Then Derek told her that I had already invested.
He said I wanted people who loved my mother to participate.
That lie convinced her.
I felt tears sliding down my face.
"I never invested."
"I know that now, baby."
Lorraine squeezed my fingers.
"The money was supposed to help you. That's what he told me."
Arthur's jaw tightened.
"Did you keep the paperwork?"
She nodded.
"My niece has it."
We arranged to speak with her.
Before leaving, I leaned down and kissed Lorraine's forehead.
"I'm going to help fix this."
She looked at me gently.
"Don't make promises you can't control."
I swallowed.
"Then I'll promise something I can."
"What?"
"I won't stay quiet."
Lorraine smiled.
"That sounds like your mother."
***
Over the following weeks, everything moved quickly.
The investigator collected documents from Lorraine and several other complainants.
Rachel coordinated with the trustee to protect my inheritance.
The university confirmed that my final account balance remained unpaid, but that I could arrange a payment plan and request temporary access to certain records while resolving it.
Arthur offered to restore the payment immediately.
I refused.
Not because I didn't appreciate his help.
But because I wanted to take responsibility for my future.
"I can use my graduation money and start paying the balance myself," I told him.
Arthur looked surprised.
"You're sure?"
I nodded.
"You've carried enough."
He studied me.
Then smiled.
"Okay."
That one word meant everything.
He trusted me to make an adult decision.
Even after everything I had done.
I took a temporary job at a local community center while interviewing for positions in my field.
I had studied business administration.
How ironic.
My biological father had used business as an excuse to destroy people's lives.
I wanted to learn how to use what I knew to help them.
At the center, I assisted families with paperwork.
Budgeting classes.
Job applications.
Financial education workshops.
I wasn't an expert.
But I listened.
And listening changed me.
I met people who worked two jobs and still struggled.
Older adults who had lost savings to scams.
Parents who sacrificed quietly for their children.
Every story reminded me of Arthur.
Every day, I understood his sacrifices a little more.
***
One evening, I came home and found Arthur sitting on the porch.
He had two glasses of lemonade.
I sat beside him.
For several minutes, we watched the neighborhood children ride bicycles.
Then I asked, "Did you ever want your own children?"
Arthur turned toward me.
His expression softened.
"I had one."
I looked down.
"You know what I mean."
He sighed.
"Your mother and I talked about it."
My chest tightened.
"What happened?"
"She became ill."
I nodded slowly.
"Did you ever regret staying?"
Arthur stared at the street.
"Never."
"Even when things were hard?"
"Especially then."
I looked at him.
"Why?"
He smiled faintly.
"Because your mother taught me that love isn't just how you feel when life is easy."
He paused.
"It's what you choose when life gets painful."
Tears filled my eyes.
"I was awful to you."
"You were hurting."
"That's not an excuse."
"No."
He nodded.
"It isn't."
I appreciated that he didn't pretend otherwise.
I needed forgiveness.
But I also needed honesty.
"I'm trying to become someone better," I whispered.
Arthur reached for my hand.
"I can see that."
I leaned against him.
For the first time since graduation, the silence between us felt peaceful.
Then his phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
His expression changed.
"Rachel."
He answered.
I watched his face carefully.
"Yes?"
A pause.
"I understand."
Another pause.
Then Arthur said, "We'll be there."
He ended the call.
"What happened?" I asked.
He looked at me.
"Derek has been taken into custody."
My breath caught.
I thought I would feel happy.
Instead, I felt something complicated.
Relief.
Fear.
Grief.
Anger.
Arthur squeezed my hand.
"Are you okay?"
I stared into the fading evening light.
"I don't know."
And for once, that was the truth.
***
The next morning, an attorney representing Derek contacted Rachel.
Derek wanted to speak with me.
He claimed he had information about additional money that might be recoverable for Lorraine and the other victims.
But he would only discuss it if I came to see him.
Rachel warned me not to make promises or negotiate personally.
Arthur told me I didn't owe Derek a visit.
I knew they were right.
Still, part of me needed an answer.
Not about money.
Not about court.
About the little girl who had spent years waiting beside the window.
May you like
I wanted to ask Derek why she hadn't been worth coming home for.
And I wanted to hear the answer without letting it control my life.
