Chapter 2
My father stared at the second page for so long that I thought he might faint.
The backyard was completely silent.
Even the music had stopped.
Monica stood beside him, her fingers trembling.
"David, don't make a scene."
Grandma Evelyn looked at her.
"You already made one."
I stepped closer.
"Dad, what does it say?"
He swallowed.
Then read aloud.
"'Any attempt by a parent, spouse, or other household member to divert the beneficiary's educational funds for personal use must be reported to the independent trustee.'"
I frowned.
"Independent trustee?"
Grandma nodded.
"Your college money is held in a trust, sweetheart."
Monica laughed nervously.
"We know that."
Grandma turned toward her.
"Then you also know you have no authority over it."
Dad continued reading.
His voice became quieter.
"'Any person who submits false instructions or claims authority over the account may be subject to financial investigation and legal action.'"
He stopped.
Then looked at Monica.
"Why is this highlighted?"
Grandma opened her folder.
"Because someone contacted the trust administrator last Tuesday."
My stomach tightened.
Monica went pale.
"That's ridiculous."
Grandma withdrew another paper.
"The caller identified herself as Nia's legal guardian."
I stared at my stepmother.
"What?"
Grandma continued.
"She requested a transfer of thirty-eight thousand dollars."
My mouth fell open.
"Thirty-eight thousand?"
Dad turned sharply toward Monica.
"Did you do that?"
She looked away.
"I was making inquiries."
Grandma's expression hardened.
"An inquiry doesn't require submitting a written transfer request."
I felt the blood drain from my face.
"She tried to take my money?"
Monica raised her chin.
"I was trying to help this family."
Grandma looked at her.
"You tried to move money intended for my granddaughter's education into an account controlled by you."
Dad stared at Monica.
"Is that true?"
She opened her mouth.
Then closed it.
For the first time, my father seemed genuinely angry.
"Monica, answer me."
She folded her arms.
"We have expenses, David."
My heart pounded.
"What expenses?"
Monica looked at me.
"Things you wouldn't understand."
I felt tears rising.
"Try me."
She rolled her eyes.
"You're eighteen. You think college is the most important thing in the world."
I stared at her.
"It is important to me."
She laughed bitterly.
"Well, some of us have real responsibilities."
Grandma stepped forward.
"Nia's education is a real responsibility."
Monica looked furious.
"You're always taking her side."
Grandma didn't move.
"Because you're wrong."
A few guests began whispering.
My father's best friend, Uncle Raymond, approached.
"David, maybe everyone needs some space."
Dad shook his head.
"No."
I looked at him.
He stared at Monica.
"I want to know what's happening."
My heart tightened.
For seven years, Dad had avoided conflict.
He let Monica decide family vacations, household rules, and almost everything involving money.
When I complained, he told me to be patient.
Now, for the first time, he wasn't looking away.
Grandma opened another document.
"David, there's something else."
Monica suddenly stepped toward her.
"Evelyn, enough!"
Dad moved between them.
"Don't touch my mother."
Monica froze.
I stared at him.
I'd never heard him speak to her like that.
Grandma handed him a bank record.
"Monica's transfer request was rejected."
I exhaled.
Thank God.
"But the administrator investigated the account information she supplied."
Dad frowned.
"What information?"
Grandma pointed toward a line.
"She submitted a copy of Nia's identification and a document claiming you had approved the request."
My stomach turned.
Dad stared at the paper.
"I never approved this."
Monica looked away.
Grandma nodded.
"That's what I thought."
Dad read the signature.
Then his expression changed.
"That's not mine."
I stepped closer.
The document contained my father's name.
David Williams.
But the signature looked strange.
The letters were too neat.
Too carefully formed.
Dad turned toward Monica.
"Did you sign my name?"
She shook her head.
"No."
Grandma looked at her.
"Then who did?"
Monica began crying.
I almost felt sympathy.
Almost.
Then I remembered how she'd grabbed my graduation stole.
How she'd called me ungrateful.
How she'd tried to make my father agree that my future mattered less than her financial problems.
Dad lowered the document.
"Monica, I need the truth."
She wiped her eyes.
"I was desperate."
My heart stopped.
Desperate.
That meant she had something to hide.
Dad looked exhausted.
"Desperate for what?"
She glanced toward the house.
Then whispered, "Money."
Grandma folded her arms.
"Clearly."
Monica turned sharply.
"Stay out of my marriage!"
Grandma's voice remained calm.
"I would gladly stay out of your marriage if you stayed out of my granddaughter's trust."
Several guests nodded.
Dad looked toward me.
His expression was filled with shame.
"Nia..."
I stepped back.
"Don't."
He stopped.
I couldn't bear hearing him apologize before I even understood what happened.
I looked at Grandma.
"Is my college money safe?"
She took my hand.
"Yes."
My knees nearly gave out.
She squeezed my fingers.
"The request was rejected. The independent trustee has placed additional safeguards on the account."
I started crying.
Relief washed over me so suddenly that I couldn't breathe.
Grandma pulled me into her arms.
"I told you I'd make sure you got to college."
I hugged her tightly.
"Thank you."
She kissed my forehead.
"You earned your future, sweetheart."
Behind us, Monica began shouting.
"This isn't fair!"
I pulled back.
Grandma looked toward her.
"What isn't fair?"
Monica pointed at me.
"She gets everything handed to her!"
I stared at my stepmother.
Everything?
I'd spent four years studying late into the night.
I'd worked weekends at a bookstore.
I'd earned scholarships.
I'd volunteered at a hospital.
I'd missed parties because I wanted to make something of myself.
And Monica thought my grandmother's savings meant I hadn't worked for anything.
I took a breath.
"Grandma didn't give me my grades."
Monica looked startled.
"She didn't write my essays."
My voice grew stronger.
"And she didn't earn my scholarship."
The backyard went quiet.
I continued.
"I did."
For once, Monica had nothing to say.
Then Dad looked at the financial statement again.
His face changed.
"Monica, what's this account?"
She froze.
I looked toward him.
"What account?"
Dad pointed toward the transfer instructions.
The receiving account had a business name.
Monica's business.
A small online clothing boutique she'd started the previous year.
I'd seen boxes arriving at our house.
Designer handbags.
Clothes.
Jewelry.
Monica always said the business was successful.
But Dad looked confused.
"Why would Nia's money go to your business?"
Monica swallowed.
I felt my stomach tighten.
Grandma looked at her.
"That's what I've been asking."
Dad continued reading.
Then he stared at Monica.
"There's a balance listed here."
She began shaking her head.
"David, please."
He looked up.
"Why does your company owe ninety-six thousand dollars?"
I stopped breathing.
Ninety-six thousand.
My stepmother wasn't simply trying to take my college fund because she wanted more money.
May you like
She was trying to cover a financial disaster.
And from the terrified look on her face, I knew we hadn't discovered all of it yet.
