Chapter 5
Dad ended the call without saying goodbye.
His hands were shaking.
I stared at him.
"What did she say?"
He looked away.
"Diane says the money went into the salon expansion."
My chest tightened.
"All of it?"
He swallowed.
"Most of it."
For a moment, I couldn't breathe.
Sixty-eight thousand four hundred dollars.
Years of savings.
My mother's sacrifices.
Dad's monthly deposits.
Gone into a business I'd never wanted to support.
I felt dizzy.
Grandma stepped beside me.
"Maya, sit down."
I shook my head.
"No."
My voice broke.
"She spent my college money on a salon?"
Dad nodded slowly.
I stared at him.
"Why?"
He covered his face.
"I don't know."
I began crying.
Not the quiet tears I'd cried at graduation.
Real sobs.
The kind that hurt my chest.
For years, Diane told me I was selfish for wanting a good education.
She said I was too ambitious.
Too proud.
Too much like my mother.
Now she'd taken the money Mom left behind to make sure I had a future.
Grandma wrapped her arms around me.
I cried against her shoulder.
Dad stood nearby.
He looked helpless.
But I wasn't ready for him to comfort me.
Not after all the years he'd ignored the warning signs.
That evening, Grandma made my favorite dinner.
Chicken and rice.
Green beans.
Homemade cornbread.
I barely touched it.
She sat beside me.
"Sweetheart, please eat."
I stared at the plate.
"I'm not hungry."
She took my hand.
"I know."
I looked at her.
"What if I can't go to college?"
Her eyes filled.
"We'll find a way."
I shook my head.
"You don't understand."
She smiled sadly.
"Then tell me."
I took a breath.
"I worked so hard."
My voice broke.
"Every night. Every weekend."
Tears rolled down my cheeks.
"I wanted Mom to be proud."
Grandma's expression softened.
"Maya..."
"I thought if I got that scholarship, it would prove I deserved everything she sacrificed."
Grandma pulled me close.
"Oh, baby."
I began sobbing.
She stroked my braids.
"Your mother was proud of you long before you earned that scholarship."
I closed my eyes.
Grandma continued.
"She was proud when you learned to read."
I smiled through tears.
"When you built that little bridge out of popsicle sticks."
I laughed weakly.
"It collapsed."
Grandma smiled.
"Three times."
I wiped my cheeks.
"Four."
She laughed.
Then her eyes filled.
"And you kept rebuilding."
I looked at her.
She gently touched my face.
"That's who you are, Maya."
My throat tightened.
"Not a scholarship."
She shook her head.
"Not a bank account."
I began crying again.
"You're the girl who keeps building."
For the first time that day, something inside me softened.
I still felt frightened.
But I didn't feel completely defeated.
The next morning, Denise called with an update.
The bank was reviewing the disputed transactions.
An investigator had been assigned.
And Ashford University had agreed to consider additional documentation regarding my scholarship acceptance.
I felt a flicker of hope.
Then Denise said something unexpected.
"Maya, we also received a message from someone who worked at Diane's salon."
My stomach tightened.
"Who?"
"A former bookkeeper named Tasha Morgan."
I frowned.
I'd met Tasha once.
She was quiet.
Friendly.
Always smiling when I visited.
Denise continued.
"She says she has records showing how the transferred money was used."
I sat straighter.
"Will she help us?"
"She's agreed to speak with investigators."
Relief washed through me.
But Denise wasn't finished.
"There's another issue."
I swallowed.
"What?"
"She believes Diane used some of the funds to pay off personal debts unrelated to the salon."
My heart sank.
"How much?"
"We don't know yet."
I closed my eyes.
I wanted to scream.
Diane had told me my money was disappearing because of banking problems.
Now it seemed she had been spending it on herself.
That afternoon, Dad visited Grandma's house.
He brought a folder.
His expression was serious.
"Maya, I need to show you something."
I sat across from him.
He opened the folder.
Inside were bank statements.
His personal savings account.
His business distributions.
And a letter from his financial adviser.
I frowned.
"What is this?"
Dad took a breath.
"I'm setting aside money to cover your college expenses."
My heart tightened.
"Dad..."
He continued.
"I can't guarantee the bank will recover everything quickly."
I looked down.
"But I won't let that uncertainty keep you from school."
My eyes filled.
For the first time since graduation, Dad was taking responsibility without asking me to forgive him first.
I studied the papers.
"Can you afford this?"
He nodded.
"Yes."
I swallowed.
"You're sure?"
He smiled sadly.
"Maya, I've spent years working to provide for this family."
His voice broke.
"I should've paid more attention to what was happening inside our home."
Tears filled his eyes.
"I can't change that."
He looked directly at me.
"But I can make sure you aren't the one paying for my mistakes."
I began crying.
He reached across the table.
This time, I let him hold my hand.
For a moment, we sat quietly.
Then I whispered:
"Thank you."
Dad's face crumpled.
He nodded.
"You're welcome, sweetheart."
But I wasn't ready to move home.
And he didn't ask.
That mattered.
Over the following weeks, the investigation continued.
Tasha provided records.
The bank reviewed account access.
Denise worked with Ashford University.
And Dad cooperated fully.
Then one afternoon, I received an email.
From the scholarship director.
My hands trembled as I opened it.
The first line read:
"Dear Maya Williams, following our review..."
I stopped breathing.
Grandma stood beside me.
"Read it, sweetheart."
I swallowed.
Then continued.
The university had confirmed that my acceptance had been improperly altered.
My scholarship was being reinstated.
I screamed.
"GRANDMA!"
She jumped.
"What?"
I began crying.
"They restored it!"
Her eyes widened.
"What?"
"My scholarship!"
I laughed through tears.
"They restored my scholarship!"
Grandma screamed.
Then hugged me.
We laughed.
Cried.
Jumped around the kitchen.
For the first time in months, I felt pure happiness.
I called Dad.
He answered immediately.
"Maya?"
"Dad!"
My voice broke.
"They gave it back!"
There was silence.
Then he began crying.
"Oh, sweetheart."
I smiled through tears.
"I'm going to college."
He laughed.
"Yes, you are."
I looked toward the photograph of Mom on Grandma's mantel.
And for a moment, I felt as though she were smiling at me.
But just as we began celebrating, Denise called.
Her voice sounded serious.
"Maya, I'm glad about the scholarship."
I smiled.
"Thank you."
Then she paused.
"But we need to discuss something."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
"The bookkeeper found records suggesting the transfers weren't the first time Diane accessed funds connected to you."
I stared at the phone.
My happiness faltered.
"Before this year?"
Denise took a breath.
May you like
"Possibly several years earlier."
And suddenly, I realized the theft of my college savings might have been only the latest thing Diane had taken from me.
