Chapter 2
My father didn't shout.
That frightened me more than anything.
He stood beside the dining room table, staring at the bank statement as though the numbers might rearrange themselves if he looked long enough.
Then he slowly pulled out a chair.
"Sit down, Maya."
I obeyed.
Denise remained standing.
Her arms were crossed.
Her expression was stiff.
My father pointed toward the chair opposite me.
"You too."
Denise scoffed.
"I'm not being interrogated in my own home."
Dad looked up.
"Sit."
Something in his voice made her hesitate.
Then she lowered herself into the chair.
He placed the document between us.
"Let's start with the first transfer."
Denise looked away.
"Marcus, I already explained that I was managing household expenses."
"Forty-eight thousand dollars is a household expense?"
My chest tightened.
Forty-eight thousand.
I had only noticed the transfer to Jordan.
I hadn't realized how much was missing.
Denise opened her mouth.
Dad raised his hand.
"Don't lie to me again."
She pressed her lips together.
He pointed at the statement.
"This transfer happened on March sixth. Thirty thousand dollars moved from Maya's education account into a business account registered under your name."
I stared at her.
Thirty thousand dollars.
Money my mother had saved before she died.
Money Dad had carefully protected for years.
Denise shifted in her chair.
"That was an investment."
"An investment in what?"
"A family opportunity."
Dad leaned forward.
"Whose family?"
She didn't answer.
My father tapped another line.
"Eight thousand dollars transferred to Jordan."
Denise sighed.
"He needed a car."
I felt physically sick.
Jordan had received a silver sports car for his birthday.
Denise told everyone she bought it using her savings.
She even made me help decorate the driveway before he came outside.
I remembered standing behind the balloons, smiling while Jordan shouted with excitement.
I had been working weekends at a bakery to pay Denise rent.
And she had bought her son a car with my mother's money.
My hands began trembling.
Dad noticed immediately.
He slid his chair closer.
"Maya, look at me."
I tried.
"Sweetheart, did you know about any of this?"
I shook my head.
"She told me the bank changed the account rules."
Denise snapped.
"I never said that."
I turned toward her.
"You did!"
My voice surprised me.
I had spent three years answering her politely.
Never arguing.
Never challenging her.
But something inside me finally broke.
"You told me I couldn't access my savings because Dad wanted the money protected until graduation!"
Denise glared at me.
"Watch your tone."
My father stood.
"Don't speak to her like that."
Denise looked stunned.
"Marcus—"
"No."
He moved closer to my chair.
"My daughter is telling me she was deceived about her own money. You're going to listen."
I wiped my cheeks.
"I tried to ask you about it, Dad."
He looked at me.
"When?"
"Three months ago."
His expression tightened.
"You never said anything."
"I called your office."
I remembered the afternoon clearly.
I had been sitting outside the bakery during my lunch break.
My college application deadline was approaching.
I needed to know whether the savings account could cover tuition.
But Denise had taken my debit card.
She said it was part of teaching me discipline.
I called Dad's office.
His assistant answered.
Then Denise called me back ten minutes later.
She was furious.
"Stop bothering your father with money questions."
I swallowed.
"She said you'd told her to handle everything."
Dad closed his eyes.
"Oh, Maya."
Denise slapped the table.
"Enough! You're acting like I stole from strangers."
My father turned.
"That's exactly what you did."
She stared at him.
"I've raised that girl for three years!"
I looked down.
Raised me?
She hadn't attended my last two school conferences.
She forgot my birthday until Dad reminded her.
She stopped buying my clothes the moment I turned sixteen.
And when I got sick last winter, she told me to make my own soup because she was busy taking Brianna shopping.
Dad's voice hardened.
"Taking care of a child doesn't give you the right to steal from her."
Denise suddenly stood.
"Fine. I used some money. But everything I did was for this family."
My father pointed toward the papers.
"Explain the remaining ten thousand."
She hesitated.
"What?"
"Thirty thousand went to your business. Eight thousand went to Jordan. Where did the other ten thousand go?"
Denise looked toward the staircase.
I followed her gaze.
Brianna was standing halfway down the stairs.
She wore a pink silk pajama set.
Her phone was in her hand.
And her face had gone pale.
Dad noticed her.
"Brianna, come here."
She froze.
"Why?"
"Because I need to ask you something."
Denise stood immediately.
"Leave her out of this."
Dad looked at her.
"Then explain the transfer."
Brianna slowly approached.
I watched her grip the stair railing.
She wouldn't look at me.
Dad held up the statement.
"Did your mother use money from Maya's savings to pay for your summer program?"
Brianna's eyes filled.
Denise stepped between them.
"Marcus, stop."
He didn't move.
"Brianna?"
She swallowed.
"I thought Mom paid for it."
My father waited.
Then Brianna whispered, "She told me Maya didn't need college money because she was probably going to community college."
The room went silent.
I stared at her.
I had been accepted into an advanced summer engineering program the year before.
But Denise refused to let me attend.
She said it was too expensive.
She told Dad I wasn't interested.
Now I understood why.
My opportunities had been sacrificed to pay for Brianna's.
I stood so quickly that my chair scraped the floor.
"Did you know?"
Brianna shook her head desperately.
"Maya, I swear I didn't."
I wanted to believe her.
But my throat hurt too badly to speak.
Dad put his arm around me.
"Come here."
I leaned against him.
For the first time in months, I felt safe enough to cry.
He held me tightly.
"I'm sorry, sweetheart."
I shook my head against his chest.
"I didn't want to cause problems."
He pulled back.
"You are never a problem."
The words nearly broke me.
Denise let out an exhausted sigh.
"Are we finished with the performance?"
My father slowly turned.
Something in his expression made her take a step backward.
"Get your belongings."
She stared.
"You're really choosing her over your wife?"
He looked at me.
Then back at Denise.
"There was never a choice."
Denise's eyes narrowed.
"You'll regret humiliating me."
Dad picked up the bank statements.
"No. I'll regret every day I didn't notice what you were doing."
He took out his phone.
"I'm calling my attorney."
Denise laughed bitterly.
"Go ahead."
Then she looked straight at me.
And smiled.
It wasn't a friendly smile.
It was the same expression she wore whenever she knew something I didn't.
"You think your father can fix everything, Maya?"
I stiffened.
She leaned closer.
"Ask him what happens when the bank discovers whose name is on the authorization forms."
Dad stopped dialing.
"What authorization forms?"
Denise's smile widened.
"Oh, Marcus."
May you like
She folded her arms.
"You really should have checked what your daughter signed."
