Chapter 1
The moment I walked into my apartment and saw my nineteen-year-old daughter standing beside our seventy-year-old landlord, I knew something was terribly wrong.
Maya was trembling.
Her gray hoodie hung loosely around her shoulders, and her fingers were wrapped so tightly around the hem that her knuckles had turned white.
Mr. Collins stood between her bedroom and the front door, holding a ring of apartment keys in one hand and a white envelope in the other.
When he saw me, his expression changed.
Not much.
Just enough.
I had spent fifteen years working double shifts, paying bills, and raising my daughter alone. I knew the difference between an innocent man caught in an awkward situation and a man who had just been discovered somewhere he didn't belong.
I dropped my purse onto the kitchen counter.
"Why are you here with my daughter?"
Mr. Collins cleared his throat.
"Renee, there's no reason to get upset. This is about the rent."
I stared at him.
"The rent?"
"Your account has some outstanding issues."
I paid my rent on the first of every month. Sometimes, when overtime was available, I even paid early.
He knew that.
I knew that.
And neither of us believed the words coming out of his mouth.
I turned toward Maya.
"Baby, what's going on?"
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Her eyes moved toward the envelope in his hand, then back to me.
Mr. Collins noticed.
He immediately shifted the envelope behind his back.
That small movement made my stomach tighten.
"What are you hiding?" I demanded.
"Nothing."
"Then give me the envelope."
He hesitated.
I stepped forward and took it from his hand before he could pull away.
Inside was a folded document.
I didn't open it immediately.
Instead, I looked at my daughter.
"Maya, have you been talking to this man without me knowing?"
Her lips trembled.
Before she could answer, Mr. Collins interrupted.
"Your daughter and I have simply been discussing her living arrangements. Young adults sometimes need to learn responsibility."
Maya flinched.
That was when everything inside me went cold.
My daughter was nineteen. She was smart, hardworking, and preparing to begin community college in January.
She had never been disrespectful to anyone.
And she had certainly never been the kind of girl who would stand frozen in fear because a landlord wanted to discuss rent.
I moved closer to her.
"Baby, look at me."
She lifted her eyes.
Then she grabbed my arm.
"Mom..."
Her voice was barely audible.
"He comes when you're at work."
For a moment, I couldn't understand what she'd said.
"What?"
"He comes here when you're working. He unlocks the door and comes inside."
I slowly turned toward Mr. Collins.
He shook his head.
"That's a serious accusation, young lady."
Maya began crying.
"He told me not to tell you."
My heart slammed against my ribs.
I had trusted this man with our home for three years.
He had repaired our kitchen sink. He had brought us a replacement refrigerator when the old one broke. He had even given Maya a birthday card once.
I had thanked him.
I had called him a good man.
Now my daughter was standing beside me, terrified of someone I had allowed into our lives.
"What did he threaten you with?" I asked.
Maya swallowed hard.
"He said he could make us homeless."
Mr. Collins moved toward the front door.
I stepped directly into his path.
"You're not leaving yet."
His face hardened.
"Move, Renee."
I pulled out my phone.
"No."
I opened the camera and pressed RECORD.
Mr. Collins looked at the phone, then at me.
"You cannot record me without my permission."
"Then you should have thought about that before coming into my home and frightening my daughter."
Maya tightened her grip on my arm.
"He said if I told you, he'd change the locks. He said you wouldn't be able to fight him because you couldn't afford a lawyer."
My hand shook, but I kept the phone pointed at him.
"Did you tell her that?"
He said nothing.
"Answer me."
"You're misunderstanding the situation."
"Then explain it."
He looked toward the envelope.
That was when I remembered the folded document inside.
I opened it.
The first page contained our apartment address, a series of handwritten notes, and several lines of legal language.
But it was the name near the bottom that made my blood run cold.
I read it once.
Then again.
I felt Maya's fingers dig into my arm.
"Mom..." she whispered. "Look at the name he wrote."
I stared at the document.
The name wasn't mine.
It wasn't Mr. Collins's, either.
And beside it was a signature that looked disturbingly familiar.
I lifted my eyes toward the landlord.
His face had gone pale.
For the first time since I had known him, he looked genuinely afraid.
"What is this?" I asked.
He took a step backward.
"Give that back."
I folded the document against my chest.
"Tell me whose name this is."
He glanced toward Maya.
She immediately stepped behind me.
That tiny movement told me more than any explanation could have.
Whatever had been happening inside my home while I worked wasn't simply about rent.
It was something my daughter had been forced to carry alone.
And now, standing in my own living room, I was beginning to understand that the man I had trusted might not be the only person involved.
Mr. Collins reached for the doorknob.
I raised my phone higher.
"Don't move."
He stopped.
Then Maya whispered something that made the room seem to tilt around me.
"Mom, that's the same name he told me never to say out loud."
May you like
I looked down at the document again.
And suddenly, I was afraid of what I was about to discover.
