Chapter 4
I had never heard my father sound so frightened.
He stood beside Grandma's hospital bed, staring at his phone.
Two thousand dollars every month.
That was the amount he'd been setting aside to support his mother.
But Grandma hadn't received it.
Not once.
At least, not in the way Dad believed.
Mom stepped closer.
"Marcus, are you sure the payments were made?"
He nodded slowly.
"I approved the standing arrangement three years ago."
Grandma looked devastated.
"Baby, I haven't received anything like that."
Dad rubbed his forehead.
"Denise handles the distribution."
I stared at him.
"Who's Denise?"
He looked toward me.
"Our office manager."
I frowned.
"I've heard her name before."
Dad nodded.
"She's worked for me for almost six years."
Mom crossed her arms.
"Marcus, I thought you personally reviewed the family support account."
He looked embarrassed.
"I reviewed the monthly totals."
"Not the recipients?"
He hesitated.
"No."
Mom stared at him.
Dad looked away.
I could see the guilt spreading across his face.
For years, he'd believed money solved problems.
He transferred our allowances automatically.
Paid bills through his office.
Set up accounts.
Approved budgets.
But he rarely checked whether the people receiving that money were actually getting what they needed.
He trusted the system.
And now the system had apparently failed.
Grandma reached for his hand.
"Marcus, don't blame yourself."
He shook his head.
"Mom, I should've known."
She smiled sadly.
"You've always worked hard."
His eyes filled.
"That doesn't excuse this."
I looked down.
For the first time, I realized Dad was beginning to understand something important.
Giving money wasn't the same as caring.
Not if he never listened.
Not if he never noticed.
Not if he didn't know where that money went.
After Grandma fell asleep, Dad called his company's accountant.
His name was Aaron Price.
He agreed to review the family support transactions immediately.
Dad also called an attorney.
Mom asked why.
He answered quietly.
"Because if someone has been diverting money intended for my mother, I want it investigated properly."
I stared at him.
"Do you think Denise stole it?"
He looked at me.
"I don't know, sweetheart."
I appreciated the honesty.
Then he added, "But we're going to find out."
That night, Mom took Jordan and me home while Dad stayed with Grandma.
The house felt strange without him.
Jordan went straight to his room.
I sat at the kitchen table, staring at the job application Dad had handed me.
Mom noticed.
She pulled out a chair.
"Maya?"
I looked up.
"Yes?"
She pointed at the paper.
"What's bothering you?"
I shrugged.
"Nothing."
She gave me the look mothers give when they know you're lying.
I sighed.
"I don't know what I'm supposed to do."
Mom frowned.
"About what?"
"The allowance."
She smiled gently.
"We'll discuss that with your father."
I looked down.
"But he said we have to work."
Mom nodded.
"And learning to earn money isn't a bad thing."
I swallowed.
"I know."
She waited.
Then I whispered, "But I'm fourteen."
Her expression softened.
"I know, sweetheart."
"Some places won't even hire me."
"That's true."
I looked at her.
"And if I work after school, when am I supposed to study?"
Mom leaned forward.
"Those are exactly the questions your father should've considered before handing you that application."
My eyes filled.
I whispered, "I wasn't trying to be spoiled."
She reached for my hand.
"I know."
"I wasn't asking for expensive things."
"I know."
My voice broke.
"I just wanted shoes that didn't hurt my feet."
Mom's eyes filled.
She moved beside me and wrapped her arms around my shoulders.
I started crying.
Not loudly.
Just the quiet, exhausted crying that comes after holding everything inside for too long.
Mom kissed my hair.
"You deserve shoes, Maya."
I nodded.
"And you deserve to enjoy being fourteen."
I cried harder.
For months, I'd felt older than my age.
Worrying about bills.
Checking pharmacy prices.
Watching Grandma count her money.
Trying to decide whether I should buy school supplies or help with groceries.
Now Mom was reminding me that I was still a child.
And maybe I needed to hear that.
The next morning, Dad came home looking exhausted.
He'd barely slept.
But he smiled when he saw me.
"Morning, sweetheart."
I looked up from my cereal.
"How's Grandma?"
"Stable. The doctors are still monitoring her."
I nodded.
"Can we visit later?"
"Of course."
He sat beside me.
Then placed an envelope on the table.
I frowned.
"What's that?"
"Open it."
Inside was a receipt.
A pharmacy receipt.
And a handwritten note.
I looked at Dad.
He smiled sadly.
"I arranged to cover Grandma's approved medical expenses directly while we sort out the account problem."
My eyes filled.
He continued.
"I also spoke with her about the help she needs."
I swallowed.
"Is she upset?"
He shook his head.
"She's embarrassed."
I looked down.
"She shouldn't be."
Dad nodded.
"You're right."
Then he placed another envelope beside the first.
I opened it.
Inside was a bank statement.
My account.
The allowance transfer Dad had canceled was restored.
And there was an additional deposit.
I stared at the amount.
"Dad..."
He held up one hand.
"Before you say anything, I want to explain."
I looked at him.
"The extra money isn't a reward for helping Grandma."
My throat tightened.
He continued.
"It's reimbursement for the money you spent on her care."
I stared at the statement.
Then back at him.
"But I wanted to help."
"I know."
He smiled sadly.
"And that was incredibly kind."
He paused.
"But you shouldn't have had to sacrifice your own needs because the adults weren't paying attention."
My eyes filled.
I whispered, "Thank you."
Dad reached for my hand.
"And your allowance isn't canceled."
I stared at him.
"What?"
He nodded.
"I made that decision out of anger."
He looked down.
"That wasn't fair."
I felt tears rolling down my cheeks.
For the first time, Dad wasn't telling me I needed to learn a lesson.
He was admitting he had something to learn too.
Later that morning, Aaron arrived at our house.
He carried a laptop and several printed statements.
Dad asked me and Jordan to sit with Mom in the living room while they talked.
But after a few minutes, I heard Dad raise his voice.
"What do you mean the account doesn't exist?"
My stomach tightened.
Mom stood.
We walked toward the office.
Dad was staring at Aaron.
His face had gone pale.
Aaron looked uncomfortable.
"I mean the account was never established in the form you believed."
Dad shook his head.
"I approved it."
Aaron nodded.
"Yes. You approved recurring transfers."
"Then where did they go?"
Aaron took a breath.
"Into an internal company account."
Dad stared at him.
"What internal account?"
Aaron turned the laptop around.
I could see rows of numbers.
Dates.
Amounts.
And a name.
Williams Family Services.
Dad frowned.
"I don't recognize that entity."
Aaron nodded.
"That's the problem."
Mom stepped closer.
"What is it?"
Aaron answered quietly.
"A company registered three years ago."
Dad stared.
"By whom?"
Aaron hesitated.
Then said, "Denise."
The room went silent.
I felt my stomach twist.
Dad looked devastated.
"She created a company using my family name?"
Aaron nodded.
"And the monthly payments were deposited there."
Mom covered her mouth.
Jordan stared at the screen.
I whispered, "How much money?"
Aaron calculated the total.
Then answered.
"Seventy-two thousand dollars over three years."
My knees weakened.
Seventy-two thousand.
Money Dad believed had been helping Grandma.
Money that could've paid for prescriptions.
Medical appointments.
Groceries.
Electricity.
Instead, Grandma had been struggling.
And I'd been using my allowance to help her survive.
Dad sat down.
He looked as though someone had punched him.
Then Aaron said something that made the room even quieter.
"Marcus, there's more."
Dad looked up.
"What?"
Aaron opened another account.
"This wasn't the only family-related transfer Denise managed."
My stomach dropped.
"What else?"
Aaron looked toward me and Jordan.
Then back at Dad.
"There's a second account."
Dad frowned.
"For what?"
Aaron swallowed.
"Your children's education fund."
I stopped breathing.
Mom stepped forward.
"What about it?"
Aaron hesitated.
May you like
Then answered.
"Some of the money is missing."
