Chapter 2
I'd never seen Michael afraid of his own mother.
He was usually confident.
Sometimes arrogant.
He spent most afternoons playing video games, ordering expensive food, and complaining whenever someone asked him to help around the house.
But now he stood beside the living room sofa looking as though he'd been caught doing something terrible.
My father stared at him.
"Michael, what does Vanessa not want you to say?"
Michael looked down.
"Nothing."
Vanessa stepped forward.
"Arthur, stop interrogating my son."
Dad turned toward her.
"Then answer my question."
She crossed her arms.
"What question?"
"Where is the money?"
Vanessa laughed nervously.
"What money?"
"The four thousand dollars I transfer into your household account every month."
My father's voice remained steady.
"That money covers groceries, utilities, maintenance, and other household expenses."
He pointed toward me.
"So why are you charging James a thousand dollars on top of it?"
Vanessa looked furious.
"Because he's an adult!"
Dad shook his head.
"That doesn't explain where the money went."
I stood beside the staircase, gripping my suitcase.
My stomach twisted.
For months, Vanessa had told me my father was struggling financially.
She said his company had experienced losses.
She claimed the mortgage was getting harder to pay.
She told me the family needed my help.
And because I loved my father, I'd believed her.
I'd taken extra shifts.
Skipped meals at college.
Sold my gaming console.
And used nearly all my savings to pay what she called my share.
Now Dad was telling me he'd been giving her four thousand dollars every month.
I finally spoke.
"Dad?"
He turned.
"Yeah, son?"
"She told me you couldn't afford the house anymore."
His expression changed.
"What?"
I swallowed.
"She said you were behind on bills."
Dad stared at Vanessa.
Then he looked back at me.
"James, the mortgage is paid automatically from my business account."
My heart stopped.
"What?"
"The utilities are current. I've never asked Vanessa to collect rent from you."
I felt sick.
I looked toward my stepmother.
She wouldn't meet my eyes.
For eight months, she'd made me believe I was helping save our home.
I'd given her thousands of dollars.
Money I needed for tuition.
Money I could've saved.
Money I'd earned loading heavy boxes until my back hurt.
I whispered, "You lied to me."
Vanessa snapped.
"Don't act innocent. You live here!"
I stepped backward.
Dad moved between us.
"Enough."
She pointed at me.
"He's turning you against me!"
My father looked at her.
"No. Your behavior is doing that."
Then he turned toward Michael.
"How much money has your mother been giving you?"
Michael froze.
Vanessa shouted, "Arthur!"
Dad didn't look away.
"Answer me."
Michael rubbed his face.
"Some."
"How much?"
He hesitated.
"Maybe two thousand a month."
I felt the room spin.
Two thousand.
Every month.
While I was working two jobs.
While Vanessa threatened to throw me out.
While my father believed his household money was paying ordinary expenses.
Dad closed his eyes.
"Two thousand dollars?"
Michael nodded.
Vanessa grabbed his arm.
"You don't have to explain anything!"
Michael pulled away.
"Mom, stop."
That surprised everyone.
Vanessa stared at him.
"What?"
He looked toward me.
For the first time since we'd become stepbrothers, I saw something resembling guilt in his expression.
"I didn't know she was charging James that much."
Vanessa laughed bitterly.
"Oh, now you're innocent?"
Michael's face reddened.
"I thought Dad knew."
My father looked at him.
"What else?"
Michael hesitated.
Then he whispered, "Mom said the money was part of my inheritance."
Silence.
Dad's expression hardened.
"Inheritance?"
Vanessa covered her face.
I looked between them.
My father was alive.
Healthy.
Standing right in front of us.
What inheritance could Michael possibly be talking about?
Dad took a slow breath.
"James, take your suitcase upstairs."
I shook my head.
"No."
He looked surprised.
"Son—"
"I want to hear this."
For years, I'd been told I was too young to understand adult finances.
Now I was twenty.
Old enough to work.
Old enough to contribute.
Old enough to be thrown onto the driveway.
I was certainly old enough to know why.
Dad studied me.
Then nodded.
"All right."
He turned toward Vanessa.
"Explain the inheritance."
She looked exhausted.
"Arthur, we can talk privately."
"No."
He pointed toward Michael and me.
"You made this about our children. They deserve to hear the truth."
Vanessa's eyes filled with tears.
"My son deserves security."
Dad nodded.
"So does mine."
She looked away.
Then she whispered something that made my chest tighten.
"Your father left money for the family."
I frowned.
My grandfather had died six years earlier.
He'd been a successful property developer.
I knew he'd left Dad an inheritance.
But I'd never asked about the details.
Dad's expression changed.
"What money?"
Vanessa looked toward Michael.
Then back at my father.
"The family trust."
I stared at her.
Dad became completely still.
"Vanessa, you have no authority over that trust."
She began crying.
"I was only trying to make things fair."
My father looked toward me.
Then toward Michael.
And suddenly, I understood why he seemed frightened.
The money wasn't simply household spending money.
Vanessa had somehow connected her son's future to assets my grandfather intended for our family.
Dad reached for his phone.
He called someone.
"Rachel? It's Arthur."
He paused.
"I need an immediate review of the Carter family trust."
Vanessa's face went white.
Then Dad added, "And check whether anyone submitted changes involving James's beneficiary account."
I stared at him.
"My beneficiary account?"
He ended the call.
Then looked at me.
"James, there's something about your grandfather's estate I should've explained to you years ago."
My heart began pounding.
"What?"
Dad took a breath.
"Your grandfather left you money."
I stared at him.
"How much?"
He hesitated.
"Enough that you should never have been worried about paying next semester's tuition."
May you like
Then Vanessa whispered from behind him.
"Arthur, please don't tell him everything."
