Chapter 2
Vanessa's fingers closed around the corner of my mother's letter.
"Give me that!"
I jerked backward.
Dad moved between us.
"Don't touch it."
Vanessa stopped.
Several parents were watching now.
The principal had stepped away from the stage.
My classmates stood nearby, whispering.
But I barely noticed them.
All I could see was the white envelope in my hands.
Mom's handwriting.
Mom's final message.
And Vanessa trying desperately to take it.
"Arthur," Vanessa hissed, "you cannot hand a child something like that in public."
Dad looked at her.
"She's eighteen."
"She's emotional!"
"Because you spent the afternoon hurting her."
Vanessa's face tightened.
"You don't know what you're talking about."
Dad didn't raise his voice.
"I know exactly what happened."
He turned toward me.
"Maya, are you okay?"
I nodded.
But my hands wouldn't stop shaking.
He glanced toward Principal Johnson.
"Could we use a private room?"
The principal immediately agreed.
We walked toward the administrative hallway.
Vanessa tried to follow.
Dad stopped.
"Not you."
Her mouth fell open.
"Excuse me?"
"Maya needs space."
Vanessa laughed.
"I'm her stepmother."
Dad looked at me.
"Do you want her there?"
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
Nobody had asked me that question before.
Not about Vanessa.
Not about Mom's belongings.
Not about the family decisions that shaped my life.
I swallowed.
"No."
Vanessa stared.
"Maya!"
My father moved beside me.
"You heard her."
We entered a small conference room.
Principal Johnson closed the door.
Dad sat opposite me.
For the first time since he arrived, I noticed how tired he looked.
His vest was dusty.
There was a small tear along one sleeve.
A dark bruise marked his knuckles.
My stomach tightened.
"Dad, what happened?"
He glanced at his hand.
"Long story."
"Why didn't you answer your phone?"
His expression darkened.
"Because somebody gave me a reason to believe you were in danger."
I stared.
"What?"
He leaned forward.
"Before we talk about that, read your mother's letter."
I looked down.
My fingers trembled as I unfolded the paper.
My darling Maya,
If you're reading this, you've reached a day I prayed I would live to see.
I'm sorry I couldn't be there to straighten your graduation cap or embarrass you with too many photographs.
I began crying.
Dad reached for my hand.
I continued.
Your father will probably shout louder than everyone else. Let him. He has loved you loudly since the day you were born.
I laughed through tears.
That sounded like Mom.
Then I reached the next paragraph.
There's something important I haven't told you.
Before I became ill, I discovered that Vanessa had been taking money from a fund meant for your education.
I froze.
The words blurred.
I read them again.
Money.
My education.
Vanessa.
I looked at Dad.
"What fund?"
He took a slow breath.
"Your mother established an education trust when you were little."
I stared.
"How much?"
"Originally, eighty thousand dollars."
My mouth fell open.
Eighty thousand.
I had spent the last year worrying about college.
I had applied for scholarships.
Worked weekends at a grocery store.
Skipped trips with friends.
And Vanessa repeatedly told me Dad couldn't afford to help.
I looked down at the letter again.
She wrote that the fund was meant to protect my future.
That she had worked overtime to build it.
That she didn't want me choosing a smaller life because I was afraid of money.
Then came another sentence.
If Vanessa tells you there was nothing left, don't believe her until you've seen the original statements.
I stopped reading.
I remembered a conversation from last winter.
I had asked Vanessa whether Mom left anything for college.
She laughed.
"Your mother left medical bills, sweetheart. That's all."
I went to my room and cried.
Now I felt sick.
"She lied to me."
Dad closed his eyes.
"Yes."
I stared at him.
"Did you know?"
He hesitated.
My heart tightened.
"Dad."
He looked directly at me.
"I knew the trust existed. I didn't know someone had been moving money until recently."
I swallowed.
"How recently?"
"Three weeks ago."
Three weeks.
Dad had been investigating while I was studying for final exams.
I felt hurt.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
He leaned forward.
"Because I wanted evidence before accusing anyone."
I looked down.
He continued.
"And because I didn't want your graduation destroyed."
I almost laughed.
"That didn't work."
His face crumpled.
"I know."
I took a shaky breath.
"Why was Vanessa allowed near the money?"
Dad looked ashamed.
"Your mother made me a trustee. After she died, I asked Vanessa to help organize household paperwork."
I closed my eyes.
"She had access?"
"To statements and some administrative records. More than she should have."
I shook my head.
Dad squeezed my hand.
"I made a mistake."
I looked up.
He continued.
"I trusted someone who hadn't earned it."
I wanted to be angry.
Part of me was.
But there was something different about Dad.
He wasn't blaming me.
He wasn't asking me to forget what happened.
He was admitting what he did wrong.
I took a breath.
"What else did Mom say?"
Dad nodded toward the letter.
"Keep reading."
I unfolded the second page.
My mother wrote about Vanessa's habit of turning people against one another.
She described missing receipts.
Unexplained transfers.
And a woman named Patricia Reed who had helped prepare financial records.
I frowned.
"Who's Patricia?"
Dad's face changed.
"An accountant Vanessa knows."
Then my phone vibrated.
A message from an unknown number.
Tell Arthur to stop asking about the trust.
My stomach tightened.
Another message arrived.
You don't want to know what happened to Rachel.
I stared at the screen.
Then showed Dad.
His expression hardened.
He immediately photographed the messages for preservation.
"Don't reply."
I nodded.
My hands trembled.
"Dad, who sent those?"
"I don't know."
He stood.
Then walked toward the window.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Finally, I whispered,
"Why did Mom write this letter?"
He turned.
"Because she knew her illness might keep her from protecting you."
I swallowed.
"But why didn't you give it to me earlier?"
Dad looked down.
"She specifically asked for graduation day."
I glanced at the envelope.
Then noticed another folded page.
It was smaller.
Tucked behind the letter.
I opened it.
A bank receipt.
A transfer of forty-two thousand dollars.
The recipient account was listed under Vanessa's maiden name.
My stomach dropped.
I looked at Dad.
"She took forty-two thousand?"
He shook his head.
"That's one transaction."
My hands began shaking.
"How many?"
Dad took a breath.
"That's what we're still finding out."
Then the conference room door opened.
One of Dad's biker brothers stepped inside.
His name was Reggie.
He looked worried.
"Arthur."
Dad turned.
"What?"
Reggie glanced at me.
Then back at him.
"There's a problem."
My heart pounded.
"What happened?"
Reggie swallowed.
May you like
"Vanessa just told the police you kidnapped Maya."
And suddenly, I realized my stepmother wasn't finished trying to destroy our family.
