Chapter 3
Dad's office was the one room in our house we weren't allowed to enter without permission.
Not because he was hiding anything.
Because he worked as a financial compliance director for a regional construction company.
His office contained contracts.
Payroll records.
Confidential investigations.
And information about employees whose jobs depended on those records remaining secure.
Dad had explained that rule since we were little.
Respect people's privacy.
Protect information entrusted to you.
Never use someone else's secrets as a weapon.
I had broken every one of those lessons in less than a week.
He stared at Tyler's message.
"Why does he want my key?"
I swallowed.
"He said he needs something from your computer."
Dad went still.
"What something?"
"I don't know."
"Maya."
"I swear."
Jordan stepped closer.
"Did you give him access?"
I shook my head quickly.
"No."
Dad watched my face.
"Have you taken anything from my office?"
"No."
That part was true.
I had thought about it.
I hated admitting that even to myself.
Tyler had given me instructions.
Wait until Dad went to work.
Take the spare key from the kitchen drawer.
Open the office.
Photograph the computer screen after signing in.
I had stared at the messages for hours.
But I couldn't do it.
Not yet.
Jordan looked at me.
"Why didn't you tell us before?"
My throat tightened.
"Because he said he'd send the picture."
Mom sat beside me.
"What picture, honey?"
I stared at my hands.
I had been avoiding this moment since the nightmare began.
The image was embarrassing.
But the shame surrounding it had become bigger than the image itself.
Three weeks earlier, Tyler invited me to a small party after a school basketball game.
I wasn't supposed to go.
Mom thought I was sleeping at my friend Aaliyah's house.
I told myself it was harmless.
Everyone went to parties.
Everyone made mistakes.
At the party, somebody handed me a drink.
I thought it was fruit punch.
Later, I realized there was alcohol in it.
I felt dizzy.
Confused.
I sat on the floor near the kitchen because I couldn't stand properly.
Then I got sick.
I remember Tyler laughing.
I remember people holding phones.
And I remember waking up the next morning with a terrible headache.
Tyler later sent me a photograph.
It showed me lying on a couch, my clothing disheveled and my face covered in tears.
The image wasn't explicit.
But it made me look helpless.
And Tyler claimed he had other pictures that would ruin my reputation.
I didn't know whether he was telling the truth.
He said he'd send everything to my teachers.
My classmates.
The scholarship committee reviewing my college applications.
He told me everyone would think I was irresponsible.
He said Dad would be ashamed.
I believed him.
Because I'd spent my whole life trying to be perfect.
Mom listened without interrupting.
When I finished, tears were running down her face.
"Maya, why didn't you tell me?"
I looked away.
"I thought you'd hate me."
She made a small sound.
"Oh, sweetheart."
Dad was standing near the window.
His fists were clenched.
For a moment, I was frightened of his silence.
Then he turned toward me.
"Did anyone hurt you at that party?"
I shook my head.
"I don't remember everything."
His expression changed.
He crouched in front of me.
"Listen carefully. Not remembering is something we need to take seriously."
I began crying again.
He spoke gently.
"We're going to make sure you're safe. And if something happened, we're going to help you understand your options."
Mom held my hand.
"You should never have been threatened over a photograph."
I stared at her.
"But I stole money."
She nodded sadly.
"Yes."
My chest tightened.
"And we'll deal with that."
Dad looked directly at me.
"But Tyler threatening you doesn't excuse stealing from the fundraiser."
I nodded.
"I know."
"And stealing doesn't mean you deserve to be blackmailed."
For the first time that afternoon, I felt a little air return to my lungs.
Jordan sat beside me.
He looked exhausted.
"Maya, why did you threaten me?"
I covered my face.
"Because I panicked."
His voice broke.
"You told Mom I threatened you."
I began crying harder.
"I'm sorry."
He shook his head.
"Do you know how that felt?"
I looked at him.
He wasn't shouting.
That made it worse.
"I've always had your back," he whispered.
"I know."
"And when I said I wouldn't help you steal more money, you turned me into the bad guy."
I couldn't defend myself.
Because he was right.
"I was scared," I whispered.
Jordan wiped his eyes.
"So was I."
Mom pulled us both closer.
For a moment, we sat together on the living room floor.
Then Dad spoke.
"We need to contact the school."
My stomach dropped.
"Dad, please."
He shook his head.
"The missing fundraiser money has to be reported."
I began trembling.
"They'll expel me."
"We don't know that."
"My life will be over."
Dad's expression softened.
"No."
He crouched beside me.
"Your life isn't over because you made a serious mistake."
I stared at him.
"But pretending it didn't happen will make everything worse."
I wanted to argue.
I wanted him to promise that nobody would ever find out.
But I knew he was right.
Mom suggested we speak with a lawyer before contacting the school and police.
Dad agreed.
Jordan asked whether Tyler's messages could be preserved.
Dad nodded.
"Everything."
He photographed the phone screen.
Saved the threatening messages.
And wrote down the timeline while I explained what had happened.
Then he asked a question that frightened me.
"How does Tyler know about my work?"
I hesitated.
"His father works for your company."
Dad's expression changed.
"Who?"
"Gregory Brooks."
The room went silent.
Dad slowly stood.
"Gregory Brooks?"
I nodded.
He looked toward Mom.
She frowned.
"Marcus?"
Dad's face had gone pale.
"Gregory was suspended from work last month."
My heart started pounding.
"Why?"
Dad looked at my phone again.
Then he said quietly, "Because I discovered financial irregularities connected to his department."
I stared at him.
Tyler's threats suddenly made a terrible kind of sense.
This wasn't only about embarrassing me.
May you like
It was about revenge.
And I had been the easiest way to reach my father.
