Chapter 2
My mother's fingers closed around my wrist so tightly that I nearly dropped my graduation cap.
"Maya," she whispered. "Put those papers away."
I looked down at her hand.
"Let go."
"Not here."
"Then let go."
She released me.
Marcus rose slowly from his chair, holding the envelope against his chest.
"Vanessa," he said, "what did you mean by that?"
"Nothing."
"You said they would find out."
"I was upset."
"Find out what?"
Her eyes darted toward the crowd.
The principal was approaching from the stage. Several parents were watching us openly now.
My mother forced a smile.
"This is a private family matter."
I almost laughed.
Private.
That was her favorite word whenever she needed to hide something.
My childhood had been full of private conversations, private decisions, and private explanations that somehow always left Marcus apologizing.
The principal stopped beside us.
"Maya, is everything all right?"
I glanced toward the stage.
My classmates were waiting to receive their diplomas.
Some were smiling at me.
Others looked confused.
And suddenly I realized how much of my graduation was slipping away.
Marcus saw it too.
He gently touched my elbow.
"Go finish your ceremony, sweetheart."
"But Dad—"
"Please."
His voice cracked.
"You earned this day. Don't give it away."
My mother opened her mouth.
Marcus turned toward her.
"Not another word."
She froze.
In twelve years, I had rarely heard him speak to her that firmly.
I looked at him one more time.
Then I returned to the stage.
I walked across it twenty minutes later to receive my diploma.
The principal shook my hand.
My classmates cheered.
But all I could see was the third row.
Marcus was standing, applauding with both hands raised.
My mother was gone.
After the ceremony, I found him beside the parking lot.
He was holding a small bouquet of yellow roses.
My favorite.
"You remembered," I whispered.
He smiled sadly.
"I've never forgotten your favorite flowers."
I hugged him again.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then I felt him take a breath.
"Maya, we need to talk about those papers."
I knew this was coming.
"I meant every word."
"I know you did."
"Then what's wrong?"
He looked at the envelope.
"An adult adoption is a serious legal decision. It isn't something you should do just because your mother hurt my feelings."
I stepped back.
"Do you really think I started planning this today?"
His expression changed.
"How long?"
"Six months."
"Six months?"
I nodded.
"I talked to an attorney. I saved money from my weekend job. I researched the process."
He stared at me.
"I wanted to tell you earlier, but I was afraid."
"Afraid of what?"
"That you'd say no."
He looked devastated.
"Maya."
"I know you love me. But Mom spent so many years telling me I wasn't really yours that sometimes I wondered whether you believed her."
He set the flowers on the hood of his car.
Then he took both my hands.
"Listen carefully."
His voice was steady now.
"The day I married your mother, you were six years old."
"I remember."
"You wore a yellow dress. You spilled grape juice on my shoes before the ceremony."
I laughed through my tears.
"You told me purple was your favorite color."
"It became my favorite color that afternoon."
He squeezed my hands.
"I chose you then. I chose you every morning afterward. And I never stopped choosing you when your mother and I divorced."
I couldn't speak.
He pulled me against his chest.
"If you want me to legally become your father, Maya, there is nothing in this world that would make me prouder."
I began crying again.
But this time, the tears felt different.
Then his phone rang.
He checked the screen.
His expression tightened.
"Vanessa."
"Don't answer."
He hesitated.
Then the call ended.
A text appeared.
I saw his face change as he read it.
"What is it?"
He tried to put the phone away.
"Dad."
He sighed and handed it to me.
The message said:
YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU'RE GETTING YOURSELF INTO. TELL MAYA TO CANCEL THE ADOPTION OR YOU'LL BOTH REGRET IT.
My stomach twisted.
Another message arrived.
AND DON'T THINK I WON'T TELL HER WHAT REALLY HAPPENED TO HER FATHER.
I read it twice.
My biological father, Daniel Carter, had disappeared when I was four.
My mother always said he had abandoned us.
According to her, he left after emptying our savings account and never tried to contact me again.
I had grown up believing that story.
Marcus never spoke badly about Daniel.
Whenever I asked questions, he simply said he didn't know everything and that I deserved honest answers.
Now, staring at my mother's message, I felt the ground shifting beneath me.
"Did you know him?" I asked.
Marcus looked away.
"Only briefly."
"What happened to him?"
"I don't know, Maya."
"Mom said he abandoned me."
Marcus's silence lasted too long.
"Dad."
He swallowed.
"Your mother told me he left."
"But?"
"But once, when you were about nine, a man called our house asking for you."
I stared at him.
"Who?"
"He said his name was Daniel."
My heart began pounding.
"What did you do?"
"I told your mother."
"And?"
"She said someone was pretending to be him."
I stepped back.
"Did you believe her?"
"I had no reason to think she was lying."
I looked down at my phone.
For years, my mother had told me that nobody from my father's family wanted anything to do with me.
No birthdays.
No phone calls.
No Christmas presents.
Nothing.
But what if that wasn't true?
"What else?" I whispered.
Marcus frowned.
"What do you mean?"
"What else did Mom hide?"
He hesitated.
Then he opened his car door and removed a worn leather folder from the passenger seat.
Inside were old divorce papers, photographs, and receipts.
"I kept these because there were things about our divorce I never understood."
He pulled out a copy of an account statement.
Near the bottom was a transfer of eighteen thousand dollars.
The date was one week before the divorce.
The receiving account belonged to Vanessa.
"She told the court I had emptied our joint savings," Marcus said quietly.
I stared at the paper.
"But this says she transferred it."
"Yes."
"Why didn't you show anyone?"
"I did."
"What happened?"
"She accused me of forging the statement. My attorney said we couldn't prove who authorized the transfer."
I suddenly remembered something.
The small locked box my mother kept in her closet.
The one she always moved whenever I helped clean.
Once, when I was thirteen, I asked what was inside.
She slapped my hand away.
"That box contains things you are too young to understand."
I looked at Marcus.
"I think I know where we need to start."
Before he could answer, my phone buzzed.
A message from my mother.
COME HOME NOW. ALONE.
Then another.
AND BRING EVERY DOCUMENT YOU SIGNED.
I stared at the screen.
For the first time, I didn't feel the familiar urge to obey.
I felt something stronger.
May you like
A need to know the truth.
And I was finally ready to find it.
