Chapter 5
I didn't sleep that night.
Every time I closed my eyes, I heard Isaiah's voice.
Fifty thousand dollars.
My mother had demanded fifty thousand dollars to keep me from discovering my own father.
I lay on Marcus's couch, staring at the ceiling.
Around three in the morning, he came out of his bedroom carrying a blanket.
"Still awake?"
I nodded.
He sat in the armchair.
"You don't have to figure everything out tonight."
"I know."
But I couldn't stop thinking.
"Why would she do that?"
Marcus rubbed his hands together.
"I wish I knew."
"Was she always like this?"
He hesitated.
I sat up.
"Please don't protect her anymore."
He looked at me for a long moment.
"Your mother could be loving, Maya. Especially when things went her way."
I waited.
"But when she felt rejected, she sometimes tried to hurt whoever she believed was responsible."
I looked down.
"Like you?"
He sighed.
"Like me."
I remembered their arguments.
Mom accusing him of not earning enough.
Mom complaining that he spent too much time with me.
Mom threatening to leave whenever he disagreed with her.
I had thought all married couples fought that way.
"Why did you stay so long?"
He looked toward the photograph of us above the television.
"Because leaving her meant I might lose you."
The answer broke my heart.
In the morning, we called the attorney who had prepared my adoption paperwork.
Her name was Olivia Grant.
She had kind eyes, a sharp voice, and absolutely no patience for dishonesty.
I explained everything.
The hidden letters.
The phone call.
The money.
The threats.
She listened without interrupting.
When I finished, she leaned back.
"Maya, we need to separate several issues."
I nodded.
"Your adult adoption and name change are one matter. You have the right to pursue them voluntarily."
She turned toward Marcus.
"You'll need to consent and complete the court process."
He nodded.
"Of course."
"Your biological father's financial support is another matter."
She opened a notebook.
"And if Vanessa received money intended for Maya and misused it, that may require a financial investigation."
My stomach tightened.
"Could Mom go to prison?"
Olivia looked at me carefully.
"Possibly, depending on what happened and what the evidence proves. But we aren't making conclusions yet."
I swallowed.
"I don't want revenge."
"Then what do you want?"
"The truth."
She nodded.
"That's where we start."
We agreed not to confront my mother again until we had more information.
Isaiah sent us the address of his father's house.
Then he sent something else.
A photograph of a folder containing bank records.
There were years of transfers.
Monthly payments.
Additional deposits labeled EDUCATION.
And one separate account established when I was a baby.
The account had originally held eighty-five thousand dollars.
By the time I turned sixteen, it had received additional deposits.
According to the statement Isaiah sent, the balance should have been over one hundred and twenty thousand dollars.
I stared at the number.
My mother had told me I couldn't afford the university I wanted.
She said we didn't have money for tuition.
She had made me feel guilty for applying.
Marcus had offered to take out a loan to help.
And all that time, there had been money.
Money intended for me.
"Where is it?" I whispered.
Olivia examined the records.
"We don't know yet."
I felt sick.
"She took it."
"We need proof of the withdrawals and who had legal control of the account."
I nodded.
But deep down, I already knew.
My mother hadn't just hidden my father.
She had hidden the future he tried to give me.
We left for Savannah the next morning.
Marcus drove.
I sat beside him with my graduation cap in my lap.
Isaiah had asked me to bring it.
"Why?" I'd asked.
"Because Dad wanted to see you graduate."
That sentence stayed with me for the entire drive.
Three hours later, we turned onto a quiet residential street.
Isaiah stood on the porch of a brick house.
He was tall, with close-cropped hair and my father's eyes.
The moment I stepped out of the car, he came down the steps.
For several seconds, we stared at each other.
Then he opened his arms.
"Hey, little sister."
I ran into them.
He hugged me so tightly I could barely breathe.
I didn't care.
He smelled like clean laundry and cedarwood.
I had no memories of him, but something about being held by my brother felt strangely familiar.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
I pulled back.
"For what?"
"For all the birthdays we missed."
I wiped my cheeks.
"We have more birthdays coming."
He smiled through his tears.
"Yeah. We do."
Marcus joined us.
Isaiah shook his hand.
"Thank you for taking care of her."
Marcus looked embarrassed.
"I love her. That's all."
Isaiah nodded.
"That's a lot."
Then he turned toward the house.
"Dad's inside."
My feet suddenly felt heavy.
What if he didn't recognize me?
What if seeing me upset him?
What if fourteen years had changed him so much that the man in the photograph was gone?
Marcus touched my shoulder.
"One step at a time."
I walked through the door.
The living room was bright and simple.
A television played quietly.
On a shelf were dozens of photographs.
And there, beside a reclining chair, was the man from my childhood.
Older.
Thinner.
His hair almost entirely gray.
One hand rested on the armrest.
His other hand trembled slightly.
He turned when he heard us.
His eyes moved across Isaiah.
Across Marcus.
Then they settled on me.
His mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
I took one step.
Then another.
"Dad?"
His face crumpled.
He lifted his trembling hand.
"Maya?"
I fell to my knees beside his chair.
He cupped my cheek.
For a moment, he simply stared at me.
Then he whispered, "My baby."
I pressed my face against his chest and cried.
He wrapped one arm around me.
"I'm here," he whispered. "I'm here."
It was the reunion I had dreamed about without knowing I was allowed to dream it.
After a while, I pulled back.
He touched my braids.
"You look like your grandmother."
I laughed through my tears.
Isaiah stood nearby, crying openly.
Marcus turned away to give us privacy.
Daniel noticed him.
He held out his hand.
Marcus approached.
The two men looked at each other.
Then Daniel said slowly, "Thank you."
Marcus shook his head.
"You don't owe me anything."
Daniel's voice trembled.
"You raised my daughter when I couldn't."
Marcus squeezed his hand.
"She's an incredible young woman."
Daniel looked at me.
"I know."
For the first time, I felt something I had never felt before.
I wasn't trapped between two fathers.
I was loved by both.
Then Daniel asked Isaiah to bring him a folder.
Inside was an old photograph of my mother standing beside a bank manager.
I recognized the manager immediately.
He was a friend of hers.
A man I called Uncle Raymond.
Daniel pointed at the photograph.
"That man," he said carefully, "helped her."
I leaned closer.
"Helped her do what?"
His hand tightened around mine.
"Take your money."
May you like
I stared at the picture.
And I realized the truth was even bigger than my mother's lies.
