Chapter 7
The summer after graduation was nothing like I expected.
I thought I would be shopping for dorm supplies.
Working extra shifts.
Spending my last weeks at home trying not to cry every time Dad mentioned college.
Instead, half my days were spent on phone calls with banks, credit bureaus, investigators, and Howard’s financial office.
Identity theft is boring in the cruelest possible way.
Forms.
Reference numbers.
Waiting.
Explaining the same story ten times.
Proving you are yourself.
My credit slowly began correcting.
Fraudulent accounts were frozen.
The university gave me extra time for financial documentation.
Dad still offered to pay everything.
I still refused to let him simply erase the problem with money.
“I’m not refusing your help.”
I told him that repeatedly.
“I just don’t want Vanessa’s crime to become something we hide.”
He understood.
Mostly.
Sometimes he still tried to solve problems while I was asleep.
One morning I discovered he had called Howard to ask about paying housing directly.
“Dad.”
“What?”
“Boundaries.”
“I’m your father.”
“That sentence is not magic.”
He laughed.
“You sound like your mother.”
That always stopped me.
Mom had believed strongly in independence.
Dad said she would have liked the woman I was becoming.
I hoped so.
Mia started therapy twice a week.
At first she hated it.
Then she stopped complaining.
One afternoon, she came into my room.
She stood beside the doorway.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“Why didn’t you hate me?”
I looked up.
“Who said I didn’t?”
Her face fell.
I smiled slightly.
“I was really angry.”
“That’s different.”
“Sometimes I hated being around you.”
She sat on the edge of my desk chair.
“I deserved that.”
“Probably.”
She rolled her eyes.
Progress.
Then she became serious.
“But why did you let me come back?”
I thought about it.
“Because Dad asked what I wanted.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Yes, it is.”
I closed my laptop.
“For years, nobody asked me what I wanted when it came to you.”
Her face changed.
“When he finally did, I realized I didn’t want you homeless or scared.”
She looked down.
“That doesn’t mean I forgot.”
“I know.”
“It doesn’t mean you’re forgiven for everything.”
“I know.”
“It means I wanted a chance to see who you are without your mom controlling the room.”
Mia’s eyes filled.
“I don’t know who that is yet.”
“Neither do I.”
That made her laugh.
Two weeks later, Mia got a job.
At my coffee shop.
I almost said no when the manager asked whether I recommended her.
Then I said, “She needs to learn what eight hours standing feels like.”
The manager hired her.
Her first shift destroyed her.
“My feet are dead.”
“Good.”
“How did you do this for months?”
“Motivation.”
“What motivation?”
“I wanted a graduation dress.”
She froze.
I regretted it immediately.
Then Mia whispered, “I’m still sorry.”
“I know.”
A week later, she handed me an envelope.
Inside was six hundred dollars.
“What is this?”
“Dress money.”
I stared.
“Mia.”
“I sold some clothes.”
“You don’t have to pay me.”
“Yes, I do.”
“The dress cost less than this.”
“I know.”
“Then why six hundred?”
She looked embarrassed.
“For the emotional surcharge.”
I laughed.
Actually laughed.
Then I pushed half back.
“No.”
She frowned.
“You pay for the dress.”
“Fine.”
“The rest goes toward your future.”
She stared at me.
“You mean L.A.?”
“If you still want it.”
Her face changed.
“I thought you’d hate that.”
“I hate stealing from college funds.”
“Fair.”
“If you earn your own money and apply honestly, that’s different.”
Mia started crying.
“Stop.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You’re making me feel things.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
She laughed through tears.
Dad watched all this from a distance.
He rarely interfered now.
That was new for him.
The divorce moved slowly.
The criminal case moved faster.
Vanessa eventually accepted a plea deal.
She admitted unauthorized financial transfers.
Identity theft.
Theft of personal property.
Fraud.
In exchange, prosecutors reduced some charges.
She would still face prison time.
Mia had mixed feelings.
“I wanted consequences.”
She told me one night.
“I didn’t know consequences would hurt.”
I understood.
Justice could be necessary and painful at the same time.
Dad attended sentencing.
I did too.
Mia almost did not.
Then she came.
Vanessa addressed the court.
She cried.
She talked about fear.
Debt.
Trying to give Mia opportunities.
She apologized to Dad.
Then to Mia.
Then she looked at me.
“Aaliyah.”
I tensed.
“I was jealous of what you represented.”
That surprised me.
She continued.
“You had a father who adored you.”
Dad looked down.
“You had a mother people still loved after she was gone.”
My throat tightened.
“I convinced myself that meant you had too much.”
Tears rolled down Vanessa’s face.
“So I kept taking.”
Silence filled the courtroom.
“That was wrong.”
For once, no excuses followed.
“I hurt you.”
She looked at Mia.
“And I taught my daughter to hurt you too.”
Mia started crying.
Vanessa closed her eyes.
“I am sorry.”
The judge sentenced her to several years in prison, followed by supervised release and restitution.
Not everything could be repaid.
Some jewelry was gone forever.
Some money too.
But the order mattered.
My credit was officially cleared weeks later.
When the final fraudulent account disappeared, I refreshed the page three times.
Then I screamed.
Dad ran into the room.
“What happened?”
“It’s gone!”
“What?”
“The debt!”
He hugged me.
Mia ran in.
“What happened?”
“My credit is clean.”
She cheered.
We ended up dancing in the kitchen like idiots.
That night, Dad brought out a box.
Inside was Mom’s emerald necklace.
I had asked him to keep it temporarily while everything was being investigated.
He handed it to me.
“You should take this to Howard.”
I looked at him.
“Are you sure?”
“It belongs to you.”
I fastened it around my neck.
Mia stared.
“That’s beautiful.”
“Mom loved it.”
Mia smiled sadly.
“I wish I’d understood.”
“What?”
“That when you talked about her, you weren’t trying to make anyone feel less important.”
I looked at her.
“I was trying not to forget.”
She nodded.
“I know now.”
Then Dad’s phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed.
“Okay.”
A pause.
“When?”
Another pause.
“I’ll tell her.”
He ended the call.
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
He looked at me.
“The jewelry dealer found something.”
“What?”
“One of your mother’s missing pieces.”
I stood.
“Which?”
“The ring.”
My great-grandmother’s ring.
I covered my mouth.
“They still have it?”
“No.”
My heart fell.
Dad continued.
“But they know who bought it.”
“Who?”
He hesitated.
“Vanessa’s brother.”
I frowned.
“Uncle Trevor?”
Mia went pale.
She had barely mentioned him in years.
Dad nodded.
“Apparently he bought several items from Vanessa.”
My stomach tightened.
“Did he know they were stolen?”
“We don’t know.”
Mia whispered, “He knew.”
We turned.
She looked terrified.
“How do you know?”
“Because Mom told him.”
Dad’s face hardened.
“When?”
“A long time ago.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
Mia swallowed.
“Because Trevor knows more than Mom.”
“About what?”
She looked toward me.
“About how she picked you.”
My stomach dropped.
“What do you mean?”
Mia stood.
“The notebook wasn’t Mom’s idea.”
Dad went still.
“Whose was it?”
May you like
Mia whispered, “Trevor’s.”
And just when we thought Vanessa had been the person who planned everything, we learned someone else had been guiding her from the beginning.
