Chapter 2
I stared at the screen.
For a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
My daughter was kneeling beside the washing machine.
Her hair was tangled.
Her cheeks were wet.
Vanessa stood over her, pointing toward a small jewelry box.
"Tell me where you put the money."
Maya shook her head.
"I didn't take anything."
"Stop lying!"
The sharpness of Vanessa's voice made me flinch.
I had heard my wife raise her voice before.
But never like that.
Never with such hatred.
On the screen, Maya held up a diamond ring.
"I found your ring behind the dryer. I was bringing it back."
Vanessa snatched it from her.
"Then explain the missing cash."
"I don't know."
"Your father trusts you too much."
My daughter whispered something I almost missed.
"Please don't tell Dad I stole."
Vanessa smiled.
"Then perhaps you should learn to do exactly what I say."
My mother paused the recording.
I looked at Maya.
"Sweetheart, did she accuse you of stealing?"
Maya nodded.
"She said you would send me away if you knew."
I felt my stomach twist.
"Why would you believe that?"
Maya stared at the floor.
"Because she told me you were already tired of me."
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came out.
Vanessa stepped forward.
"Marcus, that's completely out of context."
I turned toward her.
"Out of context?"
"She'd been taking things without permission."
"What things?"
Vanessa hesitated.
"Food. Money. Jewelry."
I looked at my mother.
She shook her head.
"Maya never stole a thing."
Vanessa crossed her arms.
"Of course Evelyn would say that."
My mother swiped to another recording.
This one showed Vanessa standing in our kitchen.
I recognized the expensive silver refrigerator I'd purchased the previous Christmas.
Maya stood beside the counter holding a sandwich.
Vanessa snatched it from her hand.
"I told you, dinner is for people who contribute to this household."
Maya looked shocked.
"I haven't eaten since school."
"Then maybe you should find a job."
"I'm studying for my exams."
Vanessa threw the sandwich into the garbage.
"Your father works hard enough without supporting another useless mouth."
I grabbed the edge of the coffee table.
The room seemed to tilt.
I remembered that evening.
I had called home from Chicago.
Vanessa told me Maya was upstairs studying.
She said she'd cooked Maya's favorite chicken pasta.
I had thanked her.
I had actually thanked her.
"How many times?" I asked.
Maya looked frightened.
"How many times did she stop you from eating?"
My daughter stared at her hands.
"I don't know."
"Ten? Twenty?"
"Sometimes I ate at Grandma's."
I turned to my mother.
"Did you know?"
Her eyes filled.
"I knew some of it. I didn't know how bad it had become until recently."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I tried."
I shook my head.
"No, Mom. You never said—"
"I called you six times last month."
The words struck me.
Six calls.
I remembered them.
I had been traveling.
When I finally answered, Vanessa was sitting beside me.
My mother had sounded distant.
I had assumed she was upset because I missed Sunday dinner.
Then I remembered something else.
Vanessa had taken my phone during one meeting because she said an important client was calling.
My mother continued.
"Every time I tried to talk, Vanessa was nearby. Maya begged me not to make things worse."
Maya touched my arm.
"Grandma wanted to help."
I looked at her.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Her answer destroyed me.
"Because she said you would choose her."
I stepped back.
My daughter had spent months believing her own father might abandon her.
And I had given her reasons to believe it.
Not because I didn't love her.
Because I hadn't been paying attention.
Vanessa began crying.
"Marcus, surely you can see they're turning you against me."
I faced her.
"Get your things."
Her tears stopped.
"What?"
"Pack a bag. You're leaving tonight."
She stared at me.
"This is my house."
"My daughter lives here."
"I'm your wife!"
"And she is my child."
Vanessa's expression hardened.
"You can't just throw me out."
I took out my phone.
"Then I'll call my attorney and find out exactly what I can legally do."
For a moment, nobody moved.
Then Vanessa laughed.
It was a strange, bitter sound.
"You think you're so righteous."
I looked at her.
She stepped closer.
"Do you know how difficult your daughter has made this marriage?"
"Stop."
"No, Marcus. You need to hear this."
She pointed at Maya.
"Every vacation, every dinner, every anniversary, she's there. Always reminding you of Danielle."
I saw my daughter's shoulders collapse.
I moved in front of her.
"Don't say another word about her mother."
Vanessa smiled coldly.
"That's the problem. Your dead wife is still more important than the woman standing in front of you."
I stared at the woman I'd married.
I no longer recognized her.
My mother spoke quietly.
"Marcus, there's another recording."
Vanessa whipped around.
"Evelyn!"
My mother kept her eyes on me.
"This one is from last Thursday."
I frowned.
"Thursday?"
She nodded.
"The day Vanessa thought Maya was at school."
Vanessa's face changed.
Not anger.
Not embarrassment.
Fear.
"Mom," I asked, "what happened Thursday?"
My mother looked at Maya.
My daughter suddenly started shaking.
"Grandma, please."
I crouched beside her.
"Baby, whatever it is, you're safe."
She shook her head.
"You don't understand."
I took her hands.
"Then tell me."
Her voice was barely audible.
"Vanessa said if I told you, she'd make sure Grandma lost her house."
I slowly stood.
"What?"
My mother closed her eyes.
Vanessa backed toward the staircase.
I looked at her.
"What have you done?"
She said nothing.
My mother pressed play.
On the screen, Vanessa sat at my kitchen island speaking on the phone.
Her voice was calm.
Confident.
"Don't worry. Once Marcus signs the papers, the old woman loses her house, and the girl won't have anywhere left to go."
Then a man's voice answered.
"Good. Because I need my share before the end of the month."
I recognized that voice immediately.
May you like
It belonged to my younger brother.
Darius.
