Chapter 3
I stared at Denise.
"False information?"
She nodded.
I looked at Kayla.
"Sweetheart, go downstairs for a few minutes."
Kayla hesitated.
"Am I in trouble?"
My heart broke.
"No, baby."
I kissed her forehead.
"Not even a little."
She looked toward Denise.
Then quietly left.
I waited until her footsteps disappeared.
Then I closed the office door.
"Start talking."
Denise sat with her hands clenched in her lap.
"Amara applied for a scholarship through the Briarwood Education Foundation."
I nodded.
"I remember Valerie mentioning it."
"She was supposed to receive full tuition assistance."
"Then what happened?"
Denise swallowed.
"The foundation discovered discrepancies in the financial information."
I frowned.
"What discrepancies?"
She looked away.
"Income figures."
I stared at her.
"Whose income?"
"Valerie's."
I felt cold.
"Did Valerie submit incorrect information?"
Denise hesitated.
Then whispered:
"No."
My stomach tightened.
"Did you?"
She started crying.
"I was trying to help."
I stood completely still.
"Denise."
She covered her face.
"I thought if the foundation believed Valerie earned less, Amara would qualify for more aid."
I stared at her.
"You changed her application?"
She nodded.
I felt sick.
"You submitted false income information?"
"I didn't think anyone would check."
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
My wife had altered financial information on her niece's scholarship application.
The foundation discovered it.
Amara lost her opportunity.
And instead of telling the truth, Denise secretly enrolled both girls in an expensive school and expected our family to cover the cost.
I sat down slowly.
"Does Valerie know you did this?"
Denise shook her head.
"She thinks there was an administrative mistake."
I stared at her.
"And Amara?"
"She doesn't know."
My heart sank.
A sixteen-year-old girl believed her future had been damaged by an unexplained mistake.
Her mother believed the same thing.
Meanwhile, the person responsible had been hiding inside our family.
I looked at Denise.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
She started crying harder.
"Because you'd be disappointed."
I laughed bitterly.
"Denise, I'm beyond disappointed."
She wiped her cheeks.
"I was trying to give Amara a chance."
"By lying?"
"I made a mistake."
"Then why did you lie again afterward?"
She looked at me.
I continued.
"You lied to Valerie. You lied to Amara. You lied to Kayla. And you lied to me."
Denise looked down.
I stood.
"Do you realize what you've done?"
She nodded weakly.
I shook my head.
"No. I don't think you do."
I walked toward the window.
Our backyard looked peaceful.
Kayla's basketball rested beside the patio.
The garden Denise had planted was full of flowers.
Everything outside looked normal.
Inside, our marriage was falling apart.
I turned back.
"We're telling Valerie."
Denise jumped up.
"No!"
I stared at her.
"She deserves to know."
"She'll never forgive me."
"That isn't a reason to keep lying."
Denise stepped toward me.
"Marcus, please. Let me fix it first."
I looked at her.
"You've had months to fix it."
She started crying.
"I can repay the money."
"That's not the only problem."
I thought about Kayla.
The way she'd flinched when Denise interrupted her.
The way she'd apologized for not wanting an expensive school.
My chest tightened.
"You made our daughter responsible for your secret."
Denise lowered her head.
"I didn't mean to."
"But you did."
For a long moment, neither of us spoke.
Then I said:
"I'm calling the school tomorrow."
Denise looked up.
"Why?"
"To find out whether the enrollments can be canceled and what money is refundable."
She stared at me.
"You can't withdraw Kayla."
I shook my head.
"Kayla doesn't want to attend."
"She doesn't know what's best."
"She's fourteen. She knows whether she's happy at her current school."
Denise folded her arms.
"You're going to let a child decide?"
"No."
I looked directly at her.
"I'm going to include our daughter in a decision that affects her life."
Denise turned away.
I left the office.
Kayla was sitting on the living room couch.
She immediately stood.
"Dad?"
I sat beside her.
"Come here."
She leaned against me.
I wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
"Tell me something, sweetheart."
She looked up.
"What?"
"Why didn't you tell me you didn't want Briarwood?"
She hesitated.
"Mom said you'd be upset."
I felt my chest tighten.
"Upset with whom?"
"Me."
I closed my eyes.
"Kayla, you can always tell me the truth."
She started crying.
"I didn't want to disappoint you."
I kissed her forehead.
"You could never disappoint me by being honest."
She looked at me.
"Really?"
"Really."
She wiped her cheeks.
Then whispered:
"There's something else."
My stomach tightened.
"What?"
She looked toward the staircase.
"Mom made me promise not to tell."
I waited.
Kayla swallowed.
"She took me to Briarwood last month."
I nodded.
"Okay."
"And she introduced me to a man."
I frowned.
"What man?"
"Mr. Caldwell."
I didn't recognize the name.
"Who is he?"
Kayla shrugged.
"Mom said he worked with the scholarship foundation."
My stomach tightened.
"What did he want?"
Kayla looked uncomfortable.
"He asked me questions about our family."
I sat straighter.
"What questions?"
"How much money you make. Whether we own our house. Whether you have other businesses."
My heart began pounding.
"Did Mom know he was asking?"
Kayla nodded.
"She was sitting beside me."
I stared at my daughter.
"Did he ask anything else?"
She hesitated.
Then whispered:
"He asked whether you and Mom were having problems."
I felt cold.
"Why?"
Kayla looked down.
"I don't know."
I hugged her.
"Thank you for telling me."
She clung to my shirt.
"Am I in trouble?"
"No."
I held her tighter.
"Never."
Later that night, after Kayla went to bed, I searched for Caldwell.
I found a man named Richard Caldwell listed as a financial consultant associated with several private education organizations.
But his name also appeared on a business website.
The company specialized in family asset planning.
Estate arrangements.
Financial restructuring.
And divorce-related asset protection.
I stared at the screen.
Why would Denise introduce our daughter to someone involved in divorce-related financial planning?
Then my phone vibrated.
An email arrived from our bank.
A request had been submitted to add a new authorized user to one of our accounts.
The name was unfamiliar.
Richard Caldwell.
May you like
My blood turned cold.
And suddenly, I wondered whether the tuition bill had been only the beginning of a much larger plan.
