Chapter 2
"The apartment."
The words left my mouth before I could stop them.
Dad stared at me.
"What apartment?"
Denise made a sharp sound.
"Maya, be quiet."
I looked directly at her.
"No."
Jordan slowly stepped away from the kitchen island.
His new sneakers remained inside the orange box.
For once, he wasn't looking at them.
He was watching his mother.
Dad turned toward Denise.
"Why is Maya talking about an apartment?"
She laughed nervously.
"Because she's confused."
I felt anger rise.
"I'm not confused."
Denise pointed at me.
"You're seventeen. You don't understand adult finances."
Dad's expression hardened.
"Let her speak."
I swallowed.
Three months earlier, Denise had asked me to print something from her email because our upstairs printer wasn't working.
She'd been preparing for Jordan's graduation celebration.
I opened the attachment she sent me.
But underneath it was another document.
A lease agreement.
For a luxury apartment downtown.
At first, I assumed it was a property Dad owned.
He invested in commercial buildings.
Sometimes he rented apartments for employees working out of town.
But the tenant's name wasn't Dad's.
It was Jordan's.
And the person listed as financially responsible was Denise.
I looked at my father.
"She rented Jordan an apartment."
Jordan's mouth fell open.
"What?"
Dad turned toward him.
"You have an apartment?"
Jordan shook his head.
"No!"
I stared at him.
"You didn't know?"
He looked genuinely frightened.
"Maya, I swear."
Denise threw up her hands.
"It was supposed to be a graduation surprise!"
Dad didn't smile.
"How much?"
She looked away.
"Marcus..."
"How much, Denise?"
She swallowed.
"Three thousand dollars a month."
I felt sick.
Three thousand.
Every month.
While she told me seventy dollars was too much for shoes.
Dad rubbed his forehead.
"When did you sign the lease?"
Denise hesitated.
"April."
It was October.
Six months.
Dad slowly looked toward me.
I could almost see him calculating.
Then he turned back toward Denise.
"Eighteen thousand dollars?"
She immediately protested.
"It wasn't all paid upfront!"
"That wasn't my question."
Jordan stepped forward.
"Mom, why would you do that?"
Denise looked betrayed.
"Because I wanted you to have a good start!"
He shook his head.
"I'm going to community college. I told you I wanted to stay home and save money."
She pointed toward him.
"You don't know what you want."
Jordan stared at her.
For the first time, I saw him recognize something I'd understood for years.
Denise didn't always give gifts because somebody needed them.
Sometimes she gave gifts because she liked controlling what happened next.
Dad pulled out a chair.
"Sit down, Denise."
She refused.
"I'm not a child."
"Then stop acting like nobody deserves an explanation."
I watched her expression shift.
Anger.
Fear.
Calculation.
Finally, she sat.
Dad opened his banking application again.
"I want to know which account paid for that apartment."
Denise lowered her eyes.
Silence filled the kitchen.
I felt my stomach tighten.
"Dad..."
He looked toward me.
"Sweetheart?"
I hesitated.
There was another part.
The reason I'd been afraid to speak.
I reached into my jeans pocket and removed a folded piece of paper.
It was a bank receipt.
I'd found it in the kitchen drawer two weeks earlier.
At first, I didn't understand what it meant.
Then I saw my name.
Dad took it.
His expression changed as he read.
"Maya Johnson Education Trust."
My heart started pounding.
Denise immediately stood.
"Give me that!"
Dad pulled the paper away.
I stepped backward.
He stared at her.
"Why does this receipt show money leaving Maya's trust?"
Denise's lips trembled.
"I can explain."
Dad looked down again.
"Twenty-five thousand dollars."
Jordan gasped.
I felt tears streaming down my cheeks.
Twenty-five thousand dollars.
My mother's money.
The money she'd left to help me go to college.
Dad had told me that account was protected.
He said nobody could touch it without proper authorization.
But there it was.
A transfer.
Twenty-five thousand dollars.
And Denise's name appeared beside the receiving account.
Dad looked furious.
"How did you get access?"
Denise began crying.
"I was trying to help this family."
I almost laughed.
"By stealing from me?"
She turned sharply.
"Don't use that word!"
Dad stood.
"Then tell me what word you'd prefer."
She stared at him.
He continued.
"You took money from a trust established for my daughter."
"I was going to repay it!"
"With what?"
She didn't answer.
Dad looked at Jordan.
"Did you know about this?"
Jordan shook his head.
His eyes were wet.
"No, sir."
Then he looked toward me.
"Maya, I swear I didn't."
I believed him.
That almost made everything worse.
Denise had used him as the reason for hurting me.
And now he was standing there looking ashamed of gifts he'd never requested.
Dad took a slow breath.
"I'm calling the bank."
Denise grabbed his arm.
"Marcus, please."
He pulled away.
"Don't."
Her face crumpled.
"You'll ruin everything!"
Dad looked at her.
"No. I'm finding out what you've done."
He called the bank's fraud department.
I listened while he explained the transaction.
The representative asked several questions.
Dad confirmed his identity.
Then the woman said something that made him go completely still.
He put the call on speaker.
"Mr. Johnson, there have been multiple transfers from the trust account."
My stomach dropped.
Dad looked at me.
Then back at the phone.
"Multiple?"
"Yes, sir."
His voice became strained.
"How many?"
"Seven transactions over the past eleven months."
I gripped the counter.
Seven.
I had only found one.
Dad swallowed.
"What's the total?"
The representative hesitated while reviewing the account.
Then answered.
"Sixty-eight thousand, four hundred and twenty dollars."
My knees weakened.
Jordan caught my elbow before I fell.
Dad stared at Denise.
She began shaking her head.
"No..."
The representative continued.
"Mr. Johnson, several transfers were made using authorization documents that require further review."
Dad closed his eyes.
I looked at Denise.
Her face was white.
Then the representative added something else.
"One of those documents appears to carry the signature of Maya's deceased mother."
I stopped breathing.
My mother had been dead for eleven years.
And somebody had apparently used her name to move money.
I slowly turned toward Denise.
She couldn't look at me.
May you like
Then Dad whispered the words that frightened me most.
"How did you get my dead wife's signature?"
