Chapter 3
For a moment, I thought Reggie was joking.
Kidnapped?
My own father?
I stared at him.
"That's ridiculous."
Reggie nodded grimly.
"I know."
Dad remained calm.
"Where are the officers?"
"At the front entrance."
I stood.
"I'll tell them the truth."
Dad held up a hand.
"Let me speak first."
I shook my head.
"No."
Both men looked at me.
I took a breath.
"Dad, Vanessa has been speaking for me for years."
My voice trembled.
"I'm not letting her do it again."
Dad's expression softened.
"Okay, baby girl."
We walked into the hallway.
Two police officers stood near the entrance.
Vanessa was beside them.
She had stopped pretending to be calm.
Her face was red.
Her ponytail was coming loose.
The moment she saw us, she pointed at Dad.
"There he is!"
I felt anger rise.
One officer turned toward me.
"Miss Bennett?"
I nodded.
"Yes."
"Are you here voluntarily?"
"Of course."
He studied my face.
"Has anyone forced you to come with them?"
"No."
I stepped beside Dad.
"This is my father."
The officer nodded.
I continued.
"He came to my graduation. I chose to speak with him privately."
Vanessa interrupted.
"She's being manipulated!"
I turned toward her.
"No, I'm not."
Her eyes widened.
"Maya, don't embarrass yourself."
I took a shaky breath.
"You already did that for me."
The hallway went silent.
Vanessa stared at me.
For the first time, I saw fear replace her arrogance.
The officer asked several more questions.
I answered clearly.
No one had threatened me.
No one had forced me to leave the gym.
Dad had simply taken me to a private room so I could read my mother's letter.
The officers confirmed there was no basis for Vanessa's accusation and left.
Vanessa watched them go.
Then turned toward Dad.
"You think you've won?"
He looked at her.
"I think my daughter deserves a peaceful graduation."
She laughed bitterly.
"You have no idea what's coming."
I felt a chill.
Dad's expression changed.
"Is that a threat?"
Vanessa looked away.
Then stormed toward the parking lot.
I watched her leave.
My hands began shaking.
Dad placed an arm around my shoulders.
"Come on, sweetheart."
We returned to the conference room.
But I couldn't relax.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Vanessa's face.
The panic when Dad produced the envelope.
The rage when I refused to follow her.
The way she accused Dad of kidnapping me without hesitation.
I looked at him.
"Why does she hate me so much?"
Dad sat beside me.
His eyes filled.
"I don't know if hate is the right word."
I shook my head.
"She treats me like an enemy."
He swallowed.
"I know."
I stared at him.
"Then why did you marry her?"
The question hurt us both.
Dad looked down.
For a long time, he didn't answer.
Then he whispered,
"Because I was lonely."
My throat tightened.
He continued.
"After your mother died, I didn't know how to live in that house."
I remembered.
Dad barely spoke for months.
He went to work.
Came home.
Sat in Mom's old chair.
Sometimes I heard him crying late at night.
I was fourteen.
I didn't know how to help.
He looked at me.
"Vanessa was kind at first."
I swallowed.
"She was kind to me too."
He nodded.
"She brought meals. Helped with paperwork. Asked about your schoolwork."
I remembered those days.
Vanessa gave me a bracelet for my birthday.
She helped me choose a dress for my first school dance.
She said she wanted to be someone I could trust.
Then everything changed after the wedding.
She began criticizing Dad's biker friends.
She complained when I talked about Mom.
She told me I needed to stop acting like a little girl.
And slowly, she became the person who controlled our home.
Dad's voice broke.
"I didn't see how much she was hurting you."
I looked at him.
"You saw some of it."
He nodded.
"Yes."
Tears rolled down his cheeks.
"And I made excuses."
I swallowed.
He continued.
"That was wrong."
For the first time, I felt him understand.
Not just Vanessa's cruelty.
His responsibility.
I took his hand.
"Dad, I don't want to lose you too."
He pulled me into his arms.
"You're not losing me."
I cried against his chest.
Then he whispered,
"I promise I'm going to protect you better."
I wanted to believe him.
And this time, I thought I could.
Later that evening, we returned home.
Vanessa wasn't there.
Her car was gone.
Dad immediately contacted our attorney, Olivia Grant.
She had already begun reviewing the trust records.
When we arrived, she was waiting in Dad's study.
She wore a navy blazer and carried a laptop.
"Arthur, Maya."
We sat down.
Olivia looked at me.
"Congratulations on graduating."
I smiled weakly.
"Thank you."
Then she became serious.
"We have a problem."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
She opened a spreadsheet.
The original education trust had grown through investments.
Mom's eighty thousand dollars had become more than one hundred and thirty thousand.
But the current balance was less than twenty thousand.
I stared.
"Where did it go?"
Olivia pointed toward several transfers.
Payments to a consulting company.
Transfers to a personal account.
A large payment for a luxury vehicle.
My stomach tightened.
"Vanessa bought a car last year."
Dad looked at me.
"What kind?"
"A white Mercedes."
He closed his eyes.
Vanessa claimed she received a large inheritance from an aunt.
Now I wondered whether my mother's savings had paid for it.
Olivia continued.
"We've also identified irregular withdrawals from Rachel's separate investment account."
My hands trembled.
"Mom had another account?"
She nodded.
"Yes."
I looked at Dad.
He looked shocked.
"How much?"
Olivia hesitated.
"Potentially several hundred thousand dollars."
The room went silent.
I couldn't breathe.
My mother had worked hard.
Saved carefully.
Planned for my future.
And someone had apparently been stealing from the money she left behind.
I began crying.
Dad held my hand.
Then Olivia opened another document.
"This is what concerns me most."
I looked up.
A property transfer form appeared.
It involved our family home.
The beneficiary was Vanessa.
My stomach dropped.
"She tried to take the house?"
Olivia nodded.
"The document was submitted recently."
Dad stared at the screen.
"I never signed that."
Olivia looked at him.
"We suspected that."
Then she enlarged the signature.
It looked like Dad's.
But I noticed something.
The handwriting was too smooth.
Too perfect.
Dad's signature always ended with a sharp upward line.
This one didn't.
I pointed at it.
"That's not his signature."
Olivia nodded.
"We'll have it examined."
Then Dad's phone vibrated.
A message from Vanessa.
I saw his face change.
He handed me the phone.
The message read:
You should have left the envelope buried, Arthur.
My stomach twisted.
Then another message arrived.
Ask Maya what happened the night Rachel died.
I stopped breathing.
My mother had died four years earlier.
I remembered that night.
The ambulance.
The sirens.
Dad crying in the hospital hallway.
But I also remembered something else.
Something I hadn't thought about in years.
Vanessa had been at our house.
May you like
Before Mom collapsed.
And suddenly, I wondered whether she had entered our lives long before Dad believed she had.
