Chapter 3
I didn't sleep that night.
Malik eventually went upstairs, but I stayed at the dining table with his bank statements spread in front of me.
The house was quiet.
Too quiet.
I kept hearing Jane's voice.
"I'm teaching him responsibility."
I looked at the numbers again.
Eight months of rent.
Three thousand two hundred dollars.
A twelve-thousand-dollar loan.
An additional twenty-five-thousand-dollar application.
My son was twenty.
He should have been worrying about assignments and exams.
Instead, he was facing debts he never wanted.
At six in the morning, I made coffee and called Raymond.
He answered on the third ring.
"Tell me you haven't confronted her again."
"I haven't."
"Good."
"There's another loan application."
I explained everything.
Raymond sighed.
"We need to act quickly."
He told me Malik should contact the lender, dispute the unauthorized application, place credit freezes with the major bureaus, and obtain copies of his credit reports.
He also recommended filing an identity-theft report if the evidence supported it.
"Can we go to the police?" I asked.
"Yes. Bring the documents. Let them evaluate the evidence."
I rubbed my forehead.
"And the first loan?"
"That's more complicated. Malik may have signed it voluntarily, even if Jane deceived him. We'll review the agreement and communications."
I looked toward the stairs.
"She told him she was saving my business."
"Then those messages matter."
After ending the call, I found Malik standing in the kitchen.
He looked exhausted.
"Morning, Dad."
I forced a smile.
"Morning."
He stared at the paperwork.
"You're still working on it?"
"Yes."
He lowered his head.
"I'm sorry you have to deal with this."
I walked toward him.
"Malik, look at me."
He raised his eyes.
"You are not a burden."
His lips trembled.
"You keep saying that."
"Because I need you to believe it."
He looked away.
Then whispered, "Miss Jane said you regretted letting me stay here."
I felt a painful tightening in my chest.
"She said what?"
He nodded.
"She told me you wanted your life back."
I stared at him.
"Your life back?"
"She said you couldn't enjoy your marriage because you were still taking care of me."
I closed my eyes.
Jane had done more than take money.
She had convinced my son that his existence was a problem.
I pulled out a chair.
"Sit down."
He obeyed.
I sat across from him.
"When your mother was sick, she asked me to promise something."
Malik looked up.
I rarely spoke about those final days.
The memories were still painful.
"She asked me to make sure you always knew you were loved."
Tears filled his eyes.
"I remember Mom."
"I know."
"Sometimes I forget what her voice sounded like."
My throat tightened.
"I still have recordings."
He stared at me.
"You do?"
I nodded.
"On an old hard drive. Birthday messages. Family videos."
He wiped his eyes.
"I didn't know."
"I should have shown you sooner."
For a moment, we sat together in silence.
Then he whispered, "Did she really want me to stay with you?"
I reached across the table.
"Son, she wanted you to know you always had a home."
He broke down.
I moved beside him and held him.
I had no idea how long Jane had been planting these doubts.
But I knew I had to help him recover from them.
Later that morning, we went to the bank.
A representative helped Malik review his account history.
The twelve-thousand-dollar deposit had arrived almost six months earlier.
Jane had transferred eleven thousand eight hundred dollars to herself.
The remaining two hundred had been withdrawn in cash.
But another detail caught my attention.
Several smaller transfers had occurred afterward.
Fifty dollars.
Seventy-five dollars.
One hundred and twenty dollars.
All went to an account with Tasha's name.
I stared at the screen.
"Tasha?"
Malik looked confused.
"What?"
I pointed.
"Jane has been sending money from your account to Tasha."
He leaned forward.
"I didn't know."
The representative explained that the transfers appeared to have been authorized through Malik's online banking credentials.
Malik shook his head.
"I never sent them."
I looked at him.
"Did Jane know your password?"
He hesitated.
"She helped me set up the banking app."
My stomach sank.
"Did she have access to your phone?"
He nodded.
"Sometimes. She said she needed to check whether I had enough money for rent."
I struggled to remain calm.
The representative helped Malik change his credentials and request a fraud review.
We also discussed how to protect the account.
When we left the bank, Malik looked shaken.
"Does this mean Tasha knew?"
"I don't know."
He stared out the window.
"She always acted like I was broke because I wasted money."
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel.
"What did she say?"
"She laughed when I couldn't afford new shoes."
My chest burned.
"Anything else?"
He nodded.
"She said I needed to work harder."
I remembered Tasha's expensive sneakers.
Her new phone.
The shopping bags she brought home.
I had assumed Jane bought those things using her own income.
Now I wasn't so sure.
We returned home around noon.
Tasha's car was parked outside.
I had expected the house to be empty.
Instead, music was playing upstairs.
I found Tasha in the kitchen.
She wore a designer sweatshirt and was pouring juice into a glass.
She looked at me casually.
"Hey, Dennis."
I stopped in the doorway.
"Tasha, we need to talk."
She rolled her eyes.
"About what?"
"Your mother."
She sighed.
"Oh, here we go."
I kept my voice calm.
"Did you know Jane was charging Malik rent?"
She shrugged.
"He's grown."
"That's not what I asked."
She looked annoyed.
"Yes. I knew."
I felt sick.
"And did you know she was taking money from his bank account?"
Tasha stared at me.
"What money?"
I watched her carefully.
"Transfers into your account."
Her expression changed.
Only slightly.
But I noticed.
"My account?"
"Yes."
She laughed nervously.
"Mom sends me money sometimes."
"Where did you think it came from?"
"Her job."
Jane worked part-time as an event coordinator.
Her income was modest.
I knew that.
But I also knew she'd never shown interest in taking on additional work.
I looked at Tasha.
"Your mother may have been using Malik's money."
She folded her arms.
"That sounds like your problem."
I stared at her.
"My problem?"
She shrugged.
"You're the one who married her."
Malik stood behind me.
I heard him inhale sharply.
I stepped aside.
"Tasha, I want you to understand something. Malik isn't responsible for funding your lifestyle."
She laughed.
"Please. He's always acting like he's poor."
Malik looked down.
I felt my patience thinning.
"You're twenty-five. What do you contribute to this household?"
She stared at me.
"Excuse me?"
"Rent? Groceries? Utilities?"
She crossed her arms.
"Mom said I didn't have to."
"Then you can discuss your future living arrangements with me through the proper process."
Her face reddened.
"You can't threaten me."
"I'm not threatening you. I'm telling you that things are changing."
She grabbed her phone.
"I'm calling Mom."
I nodded.
"Go ahead."
She walked into the hallway.
I turned toward Malik.
He looked miserable.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
I placed my hand on his shoulder.
"You have nothing to apologize for."
Then I heard Tasha shouting into her phone.
"Mom, he knows about the transfers!"
I froze.
A second later, she said something that made my blood run cold.
"No, I didn't tell him about the car!"
I turned toward the hallway.
"The car?"
Tasha stopped speaking.
I looked at her.
"What car?"
She stared at me.
May you like
Then slowly lowered her phone.
And I realized there was another secret waiting to come out.
