Chapter 3
My father looked at me.
"Maya, what did you sign?"
I felt my stomach twist.
I tried to remember every paper Denise had placed in front of me.
School permission slips.
Volunteer forms.
Bank documents.
There had been so many.
Then I remembered the afternoon she took me to the bank.
It was raining.
Dad was in Chicago attending a business conference.
Denise told me my education account needed an update because I was turning seventeen.
She said the bank required my signature.
I had asked whether Dad should come.
She laughed.
"Your father trusts me, Maya. Don't make everything complicated."
I remembered sitting across from a bank employee.
Denise placed several forms in front of me.
There were yellow stickers beside the signature lines.
She tapped each one.
"Sign here."
I didn't read the documents.
I trusted her.
Now I felt foolish.
"I signed some papers at the bank," I whispered.
Dad's face tightened.
"When?"
"Last February."
Denise smiled.
"Exactly."
My father turned toward her.
"What did you have her sign?"
"Authorization documents."
"For what?"
"Account management."
Dad looked back at me.
"Maya, did anyone explain what those documents meant?"
I shook my head.
"Denise said they were routine."
He closed his eyes.
Then he took a slow breath.
"Okay."
Denise leaned against the table.
"So now you understand. She authorized the transactions."
My father looked at her.
"She's a minor."
"She's seventeen."
"And I'm her legal guardian."
Denise shrugged.
"You gave me permission to handle family finances."
Dad stared at her.
"Handling household bills is not the same as draining my daughter's inheritance."
She looked away.
He stepped closer.
"You're going to give my attorney copies of every document."
Denise laughed.
"Your attorney?"
"Yes."
"Marcus, you can't threaten your wife every time you disagree."
My father held up the statement.
"This isn't a disagreement. It's money missing from a protected account."
I watched Denise's confidence flicker.
Then she straightened.
"Fine."
She reached for her phone.
"I'll call my attorney too."
"Do that."
My father pointed toward the hallway.
"But you're not staying here tonight."
Denise's expression changed.
"You can't throw me out."
"I can ask you to leave. And if necessary, we'll let the court handle what happens next."
She stared at him.
Then she stormed upstairs.
A bedroom door slammed.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Brianna stood near the staircase.
Her eyes were wet.
Jordan appeared behind her, wearing expensive sneakers and holding his car keys.
"What happened?" he asked.
Brianna whispered something.
Jordan looked toward me.
Then at Dad.
"Wait. Are you saying Mom used Maya's money?"
My father nodded.
"That's what the statements show."
Jordan frowned.
"But Mom said she sold some investments."
I looked at him.
"She bought your car with my college fund."
His face changed.
"What?"
Denise shouted from upstairs.
"Jordan! Come help me!"
He didn't move.
Instead, he looked at me.
"Maya, I didn't know."
I wanted to say something cruel.
I wanted to tell him he had been spoiled for years.
That he had laughed whenever Denise ordered me to wash his dishes.
That he had never questioned why I worked weekends while he slept until noon.
But his expression wasn't smug.
He looked genuinely shocked.
So I simply said, "I know."
I wasn't certain I believed him.
But I didn't have the strength to fight another person.
Dad told Brianna and Jordan to give us some privacy.
Then he turned toward me.
"Sit with me, sweetheart."
We moved into the living room.
I placed my backpack beside the sofa.
For a moment, we just sat.
Then Dad whispered, "How long has this been going on?"
I stared at my hands.
"Which part?"
He looked confused.
"The rent?"
I swallowed.
"Four months."
"And the other things?"
I didn't answer.
His voice softened.
"Maya, what other things?"
My eyes filled.
I hadn't planned to tell him everything.
Not that day.
Maybe not ever.
But now the truth felt too heavy to keep carrying.
"Denise started taking my allowance last year."
Dad sat forward.
"What?"
"She said I didn't need spending money because I had a job."
He pressed his fingers against his forehead.
"Why didn't I know?"
"She told me you agreed."
He looked devastated.
I continued.
"She made me pay for my school lunches. My clothes. Sometimes groceries."
His jaw tightened.
"And the money I gave her for you?"
I stared at him.
"What money?"
He went still.
"The monthly allowance I transferred for your expenses."
I shook my head.
"Dad, I haven't gotten an allowance since I was fifteen."
He stared at me.
Then he stood.
He walked toward the fireplace.
For a moment, I thought he was angry with me.
Then I saw his shoulders shaking.
My father was crying.
I had only seen him cry once before.
At my mother's funeral.
I walked toward him.
"Dad?"
He turned and pulled me into his arms.
"I'm so sorry."
I started crying too.
"I didn't want you to worry."
He held me tighter.
"You're my daughter. Worrying about you is part of loving you."
I buried my face against his shoulder.
"I thought maybe you didn't care anymore."
He pulled back immediately.
"Never."
I looked at him.
"After you married Denise, everything changed."
His eyes filled.
"I know."
"You stopped coming to my school events."
His face tightened.
"Denise told me you asked her to come instead."
I shook my head.
"No."
I remembered the science competition.
The debate championship.
My sixteenth birthday dinner.
Every time, Denise said Dad was too busy.
She made it sound like he had chosen work over me.
Dad looked heartbroken.
"I missed so much."
I took his hand.
"You're here now."
He nodded.
"And I'm not going anywhere."
His phone rang.
His attorney, Mr. Harris, was calling back.
Dad answered and explained what had happened.
I listened as he described the bank statements, my signature, and the missing funds.
Then his expression changed.
"What do you mean?"
He listened.
"Are you sure?"
A long pause followed.
Then Dad looked straight at me.
"Thank you. I'll call the bank immediately."
He ended the call.
"Dad?"
He sat beside me.
"Mr. Harris checked the account information I sent him."
My stomach tightened.
"And?"
"The account may have been changed in a way that required my approval."
I stared at him.
"But you didn't approve it."
"No."
He looked toward the staircase.
"And there's another problem."
"What?"
He showed me a photograph of a document attached to an email.
I recognized my father's signature immediately.
It appeared beside Denise's.
But something was wrong.
Dad's signature looked slightly different.
The final letter curved the wrong way.
I whispered, "That's not how you sign your name."
He nodded slowly.
"No, Maya."
May you like
His expression hardened.
"It isn't."
