Chapter 7
I stared at Dad.
"An account in my name?"
He nodded slowly.
My heart started pounding.
"What kind of account?"
He looked toward Mom.
Then back at me.
"An investment account."
I frowned.
"But I'm fourteen."
Dad nodded.
"Exactly."
I looked down at Grandma's letter.
For months, I'd been trying to save a few dollars at a time.
Now someone had apparently opened an investment account using my identity.
"How much money?"
Dad hesitated.
"We don't know the full amount yet."
Jordan leaned forward.
"Who opened it?"
Dad looked devastated.
"That's what Olivia is investigating."
I stared at him.
"Was it Denise?"
He didn't answer immediately.
Then he said, "Her name appears in the account records."
My stomach twisted.
I felt angry.
Not just because someone had used my name.
But because I was tired of adults treating money like a secret I wasn't allowed to understand.
I looked directly at Dad.
"I want to know everything."
His expression softened.
"Maya—"
"No."
My voice surprised even me.
I took a breath.
"I'm not asking you to let me handle the investigation."
I swallowed.
"But it's my name."
Dad nodded slowly.
"You're right."
I felt tears gathering.
"I don't want people making decisions about me without telling me."
He reached for my hand.
"Okay."
For the first time, he didn't tell me I was too young.
He didn't tell me to stop worrying.
He simply listened.
The next afternoon, Olivia came to our house.
She explained that the account had been opened using personal information connected to Dad's employee benefit records.
My name.
My birth date.
And other information that should've been protected.
The account appeared to have been used to move money between businesses linked to Denise and Raymond.
I listened carefully.
Then asked, "Does that mean they took money from me?"
Olivia considered the question.
"They may have used your identity without permission to conceal transactions."
I nodded slowly.
"That's wrong."
She smiled sadly.
"Yes, Maya. It is."
Dad looked furious.
But he remained quiet.
Olivia continued.
"We're working with the financial institution and investigators to correct the records and protect your identity."
I looked at her.
"Will this affect me when I'm older?"
She nodded.
"It could if it isn't resolved properly. That's why we're addressing it now."
My throat tightened.
For the first time, I understood that financial responsibility wasn't just about saving money.
It was also about protecting information.
Checking statements.
Asking questions.
And making sure people couldn't use your name without your knowledge.
Dad squeezed my hand.
"We'll get this fixed."
I nodded.
"I know."
Over the following months, the investigation continued.
Denise and Raymond were charged in connection with the fraudulent transactions.
The legal process was slow.
There were hearings.
Financial reviews.
Interviews.
And endless documents.
I didn't attend everything.
Mom and Dad made sure school remained my priority.
But they kept me informed in a way I could understand.
That mattered.
For the first time, I felt included without being burdened.
Grandma struggled with the news.
Some days she cried.
Other days she became angry.
Sometimes she defended Uncle Raymond.
Sometimes she admitted she couldn't understand why he'd done it.
Dad never pressured her to feel differently.
He simply visited.
Brought groceries.
Helped with appointments.
And sat with her when she needed company.
One Sunday, I visited Grandma alone.
She was sitting on the porch.
The afternoon sun warmed her face.
I sat beside her.
For a while, neither of us spoke.
Then she looked at me.
"Maya?"
"Yes, Grandma?"
She smiled sadly.
"Do you think I've been a bad mother?"
My heart broke.
"What?"
She looked down.
"Raymond."
I swallowed.
She continued.
"I keep wondering where I went wrong."
I reached for her hand.
"Grandma, you didn't make him do those things."
Her eyes filled.
"But I raised him."
I squeezed her fingers.
"You raised Dad too."
She looked at me.
I continued.
"And Dad is trying really hard to make things right."
Grandma smiled through her tears.
"That's true."
I took a breath.
"People make their own choices."
She stared at me.
Then laughed softly.
"When did you get so wise?"
I shrugged.
"I've had a complicated year."
She pulled me into a hug.
We sat together for a long time.
And I realized something.
I couldn't fix Grandma's heartbreak.
No amount of money could.
But I could sit beside her.
Listen.
And remind her she wasn't alone.
That was enough.
Meanwhile, Jordan continued working at the recreation center.
He had saved almost enough for his PS5.
But something surprising happened.
One afternoon, he came home carrying an envelope.
He placed it on the kitchen table.
Dad looked up.
"What's that?"
Jordan smiled.
"My savings."
Dad frowned.
"Why are you showing me?"
Jordan took a breath.
"I've been thinking."
I leaned forward.
"About what?"
He looked at me.
"That game system."
I grinned.
"Finally admitting you're obsessed?"
He laughed.
"Maybe."
Then his expression became serious.
"I still want it."
Dad nodded.
"Okay."
"But I don't want to spend everything I saved."
Mom smiled.
"Why not?"
Jordan shrugged.
"Because it took a long time to earn."
I stared at him.
He continued.
"And I realized if I spend it all, I'll have to start over."
Dad smiled slowly.
"That's an important lesson."
Jordan nodded.
"So I made a plan."
He opened the envelope.
Inside was a handwritten budget.
Part for savings.
Part for spending.
Part for giving.
I smiled.
It was the same system Dad had taught us.
But this time, Jordan had created it himself.
Dad looked proud.
"That's excellent, son."
Jordan grinned.
"Thanks."
Then he turned toward me.
"Maya, I want you to help me choose a used console."
I laughed.
"Me?"
He nodded.
"You're better at finding deals."
I smiled.
"True."
Dad laughed.
And for the first time in months, money felt like something bringing us together instead of tearing us apart.
A few weeks later, Olivia called with another update.
The financial institution had confirmed that the account opened in my name was unauthorized.
It was being closed through the appropriate process.
My identity records were being corrected.
And investigators had preserved the transactions as evidence.
I felt relieved.
But then Olivia mentioned something else.
She had found a separate education account.
One Dad had established when I was born.
I stared at him.
"What account?"
He smiled.
"A college fund."
My eyes widened.
"You have a college fund for me?"
Dad nodded.
"And one for Jordan."
I looked at Mom.
She smiled.
"We've been saving since you were babies."
I couldn't speak.
For months, I'd been terrified that Grandma's medical bills would somehow destroy our family's finances.
Now I was learning that Dad had been preparing for our future all along.
He simply hadn't taught us how it worked.
I looked at him.
"Why didn't you tell us?"
He smiled sadly.
"I thought surprises were better."
I shook my head.
"Not always."
He nodded.
"I know that now."
Then he did something unexpected.
He opened a folder containing information about our education savings.
And he explained it.
Carefully.
Patiently.
Without talking down to us.
For the first time, I understood how long-term saving worked.
How money could grow.
And why planning mattered.
Jordan asked questions.
I took notes.
Mom smiled.
And Dad looked happier than I'd seen him in months.
Then, just as we were finishing, his phone rang.
It was Grandma.
He answered cheerfully.
"Hey, Mom."
But his smile faded.
He listened.
Then stood.
"Mom, what happened?"
My stomach tightened.
Grandma's voice sounded faint through the speaker.
"Marcus, Raymond came by."
Dad froze.
"What?"
She began crying.
"He asked me to sign something."
Dad's face went white.
"What did he want you to sign?"
Grandma hesitated.
Then whispered, "Papers about my house."
I stopped breathing.
Dad gripped the phone.
"Did you sign them?"
A long silence.
Then Grandma answered.
May you like
"Yes, baby."
And I knew the nightmare wasn't over.
