Chapter 2
I pressed play.
For several seconds, nobody moved.
The camera showed Jordan standing outside his bedroom with both hands raised.
Maya stood several feet away.
Her hands were still behind her back.
Then she suddenly pulled something forward.
A small black notebook.
I recognized it immediately.
It belonged to Jordan.
He'd been carrying it around for weeks.
I assumed it contained college notes.
Jordan stepped closer, reaching toward the notebook.
Maya backed away.
Then she threw it toward the staircase.
The notebook hit the wooden railing.
Several loose pages scattered across the floor.
Jordan froze.
He looked devastated.
Then Maya screamed.
Even through the phone speaker, the sound made me flinch.
"GET AWAY FROM ME!"
Jordan immediately backed farther away.
He didn't touch her.
He didn't follow her.
Instead, he moved toward the staircase while Maya ran toward her own bedroom.
The recording ended.
I looked up.
Nobody spoke.
Claire was staring at the phone.
Maya had buried her face against her mother's sweater.
Jordan stood beside the sofa, breathing hard.
I looked at him.
"What was in that notebook?"
His eyes filled.
"Something I was trying to protect."
My chest tightened.
"Protect from who?"
He looked toward Maya.
Then away.
I knelt in front of my daughter.
"Maya, sweetheart, I need you to tell me why you took Jordan's notebook."
She shook her head.
"I didn't mean to."
Claire stroked her braids.
"Baby, you don't have to answer right now."
I looked at my wife.
"She doesn't have to answer while she's frightened. But we need to understand what happened."
Claire's expression hardened.
"You're taking his side."
I shook my head.
"I'm trying to find out the truth."
Jordan suddenly spoke.
"Dad, she didn't just take the notebook."
I looked up.
"What else?"
He swallowed.
"She read something inside it."
Maya began crying harder.
"Jordan, please!"
His expression changed.
For the first time, I saw fear in his eyes.
Not anger.
Fear.
I stood.
"Son, what did she read?"
He looked toward Claire.
Then back at me.
"I found something about Mom's accident."
The room became silent.
My stomach tightened.
Jordan's biological mother, Simone, had died when he was eleven.
Eight years earlier.
She was driving home from work when another vehicle struck hers at an intersection.
The accident had devastated our family.
Jordan spent months refusing to speak about it.
I'd spent years trying to help him recover.
Now he was standing in our living room, suggesting there was something we didn't know.
I swallowed.
"What about her accident?"
Jordan looked at me.
"I've been reviewing the records."
Claire suddenly stood.
"Why?"
We both turned.
Her voice sounded unusually sharp.
Jordan looked surprised.
"Because I wanted answers."
Claire shook her head.
"That happened eight years ago."
I stared at her.
"So?"
She looked away.
"Digging through old tragedies isn't healthy."
Jordan's face tightened.
"That's what you always say."
I frowned.
"Always?"
He nodded.
"Every time I ask about Mom."
Claire crossed her arms.
"Because you're hurting yourself."
Jordan looked at me.
"Dad, I found the original police report."
My heart pounded.
I remembered signing paperwork after Simone died.
I remembered speaking with investigators.
I remembered the funeral.
But the details had blurred beneath grief.
"What did you find?"
Jordan hesitated.
Then looked toward Maya.
"She read my notes before I could explain them."
I turned toward my daughter.
"Maya?"
She whispered, "I thought Jordan was going to ruin everything."
My chest tightened.
"Ruin what?"
She began shaking.
Claire immediately stepped between us.
"Marcus, she's ten."
I nodded.
"I know."
I looked at Jordan.
"Son, let's talk privately."
He shook his head.
"No."
His voice trembled.
"I've been keeping this quiet long enough."
Claire stared at him.
"Jordan."
He looked directly at her.
"I didn't say anything because I wasn't sure."
My heart hammered.
"Sure about what?"
Jordan reached into his jacket.
He removed a folded photocopy.
Then handed it to me.
It was an accident report.
The date was familiar.
The location was familiar.
But one line had been highlighted.
Witness vehicle: Silver Lexus sedan.
I frowned.
"What does this mean?"
Jordan swallowed.
"The driver left before police arrived."
I stared at him.
"The report said another driver caused the crash?"
He nodded.
"But nobody ever identified that person."
Claire turned away.
I noticed.
Jordan continued.
"Last month, I found a repair invoice."
My stomach tightened.
"What repair invoice?"
He looked toward Claire.
"For the car she owned back then."
The room seemed to tilt.
I slowly turned toward my wife.
She was standing beside Maya.
Her face had gone pale.
Jordan whispered,
"Dad, Claire's car was repaired two days after my mother's accident."
I stared at him.
Then at Claire.
She opened her mouth.
May you like
Nothing came out.
And suddenly, the accusation against Jordan felt connected to something far more serious than a stolen notebook.
