Chapter 6
Raymond Price had been part of my childhood for as long as I could remember.
He attended our birthday dinners.
He brought expensive gifts at Christmas.
He called my mother his little sister, although they weren't related.
When Marcus lost his job for three months, Raymond had even offered financial advice.
I remembered him smiling across our kitchen table while Marcus worried about paying the mortgage.
Now I sat in my biological father's living room, staring at Raymond's photograph.
"How?" I whispered.
Daniel looked exhausted.
Isaiah brought him water.
"Take your time, Dad."
Daniel nodded.
His speech had improved since the stroke, but long conversations still tired him.
He reached for an old document.
"Trust account," he said.
I looked at Isaiah.
He explained.
"When you were a baby, Dad's mother left money for your education. Dad added to it over the years."
I knew almost nothing about my paternal grandmother.
My mother had told me she was selfish and disliked children.
Isaiah shook his head when I repeated that.
"Grandma Elise adored you."
Elise.
The middle name I had chosen for myself.
I felt a sudden chill.
"Wait."
Isaiah looked confused.
"What?"
"My middle name. Elise."
Daniel's eyes filled.
"She chose it."
I stared at him.
"My legal middle name is Vanessa."
He nodded sadly.
"Your mother changed it after we separated."
I looked down at the petition in my bag.
Maya Elise Bennett.
I'd selected Elise because I liked the name and because, years earlier, Marcus had told me it belonged to someone important in my father's family.
He hadn't known it had originally been intended for me.
I pressed my hand over my mouth.
Daniel began crying quietly.
"Grandma loved you," Isaiah whispered.
I leaned against my father's chair.
"I wish I'd met her."
Daniel touched my hair.
"She never forgot you."
Then he pointed again at Raymond's photograph.
Isaiah continued.
"Raymond worked at the bank where the account was managed. Your mother was involved in certain administrative arrangements while you were a minor."
Olivia, who had joined us by video call, asked several questions.
She wanted dates.
Account agreements.
Withdrawal records.
Authorization documents.
Isaiah spread the papers across the table.
According to the records, money had been removed from the education account through a series of transfers.
Some were small.
Others exceeded ten thousand dollars.
Many were routed through an account belonging to a business called Carter Consulting Services.
My mother's company.
The same company she claimed barely made enough to pay its bills.
I felt sick.
"How much?"
Isaiah checked his notes.
"Potentially more than ninety thousand dollars, but we need the complete records."
I stared at him.
Ninety thousand dollars.
My mother had complained when I needed braces.
She had argued with Marcus about buying my school uniform.
She had made me work weekends to pay for senior-year expenses.
And now I was looking at evidence that tens of thousands of dollars intended for me had passed through her business.
"What did she spend it on?"
Isaiah hesitated.
"We found payments toward a luxury vehicle, travel, and a property deposit."
My mother had taken vacations without me.
She called them business trips.
She bought expensive dresses.
She redecorated the house twice.
Marcus had believed her business was finally succeeding.
I remembered asking her how she could afford those things.
"Successful women don't explain themselves," she'd said.
Now I understood why she hated questions.
Olivia spoke from the laptop.
"We should preserve these records and obtain certified copies through the appropriate process. No one should alter or remove anything."
Marcus nodded.
"What about Raymond?"
"Let's not contact him yet," she said. "We need to establish his role, if any, with evidence."
Daniel suddenly reached toward the folder.
His hand shook.
Isaiah helped him turn a page.
There was a letter dated eight months earlier.
It came from the bank's compliance department.
The letter referenced irregular account activity and requested clarification about authorization records.
Below it was a handwritten note.
Vanessa knows. Do not let Maya sign anything.
I frowned.
"What does that mean?"
Isaiah looked grim.
"We think your mother was worried you'd discover the account once you became an adult."
I remembered a document she had brought home on my eighteenth birthday.
She called it routine paperwork.
Something about updating family records.
She wanted me to sign immediately.
I had been distracted by college applications.
I almost signed.
But Marcus, who was visiting that afternoon, asked to read it first.
My mother became furious.
She accused him of interfering.
Then she snatched the papers away.
I sat up.
"That happened."
Everyone turned toward me.
"She tried to make me sign something on my birthday."
Olivia leaned forward.
"Do you remember what it said?"
"No. But it had the bank's logo."
Isaiah closed his eyes.
"Of course."
"What?"
He looked at me.
"The bank was reviewing the account. Your signature might have been used to support her explanation of what happened to the money."
I felt a surge of anger.
My mother hadn't celebrated my adulthood.
She had seen it as a threat.
And Marcus had unknowingly stopped me from signing something I didn't understand.
I turned toward him.
"You saved me."
He shook his head.
"I just wanted you to read before signing."
"That's what I mean."
His eyes softened.
Before anyone could say more, my phone rang.
Vanessa.
I let it ring.
Then another call came.
And another.
Finally, a message appeared.
I KNOW WHERE YOU ARE.
I looked up.
Marcus read the message over my shoulder.
A second one arrived.
DANIEL CAN'T PROTECT YOU. NEITHER CAN MARCUS.
Isaiah's expression hardened.
"She's not coming here."
I stared at the screen.
Then the doorbell rang.
Every person in the room went silent.
Isaiah walked toward the front window.
His face changed.
"Unbelievable."
I stood.
"Who is it?"
He turned.
"Your mother."
My stomach dropped.
Vanessa stood on the porch holding her purse, her hair perfectly arranged, as though she had arrived for a family dinner.
Beside her stood Raymond Price.
And in Raymond's hand was a thick manila envelope.
My mother looked directly through the window at me.
Then she smiled.
Not warmly.
Not lovingly.
She smiled like someone who still believed she could win.
Isaiah stepped away from the window.
"We don't have to open the door."
I looked at my two fathers.
One had spent years raising me.
The other had spent years trying to reach me.
Both had suffered because of the same woman.
And suddenly, I was tired of being afraid.
"Don't let them in," I said.
May you like
I picked up my phone.
"But I think it's time we started recording what happens."
