Chapter 3
The next morning, I woke to shouting downstairs.
I sat up immediately.
For years, raised voices in our house meant I should stay quiet.
Denise hated when I got involved in family arguments.
She called it disrespectful.
But something had changed.
Dad knew.
He finally knew.
I pulled on my sweater and stepped into the hallway.
Denise stood near the kitchen island.
Jordan was beside her.
Dad sat at the table with a stack of documents.
"I already told you," Denise said. "I didn't forge anything."
Dad looked up.
"Then why does the document have my signature?"
"Maybe you forgot signing it."
He stared at her.
"I didn't."
She threw up her hands.
"You're accusing your own wife!"
Dad remained calm.
"I'm asking for an explanation."
I stepped into the kitchen.
Everyone turned.
Denise's expression changed immediately.
"Great. Now we have an audience."
Dad stood.
"Maya has every right to know what happened to her inheritance."
My heart pounded.
I looked at him.
"What did you find?"
He pulled out a chair.
"Sit down, sweetheart."
I sat.
He explained that Mom had left me a trust worth approximately $120,000.
The money came from her life insurance and savings.
It was meant to help with college and give me a stable beginning in adulthood.
Dad had managed the trust with an independent trustee since Mom died.
At eighteen, I would receive limited access for education and approved expenses.
The remaining money would stay protected until I was older.
I remembered Mom telling me something before she got sick.
"Education gives you choices, Maya. Never let anyone take your choices away."
I hadn't understood how important those words were.
Now I did.
Dad placed a document in front of me.
Someone had submitted a request to replace the independent trustee.
The new proposed trustee was Denise.
My stomach dropped.
"Why?"
Denise folded her arms.
"Because I'm your stepmother."
Dad looked at her.
"That doesn't make you entitled to control Maya's inheritance."
She laughed bitterly.
"Everything I do is for this family."
I stared at her.
"Then why didn't you ask me?"
Her eyes narrowed.
"Because you're a child."
Dad interrupted.
"She's seventeen. And this is her money."
Denise looked furious.
"You're letting her turn us against each other."
I felt tears rising.
"I didn't do anything."
Dad reached for my hand.
"I know."
Denise grabbed her purse.
"I'm not staying here to be insulted."
She walked toward the door.
Jordan followed.
But before leaving, he turned toward me.
"I hope you're happy."
I stared at him.
"What?"
"You got Dad to hate Mom."
I shook my head.
"Your mother took my college money."
He rolled his eyes.
"You act like you're the only person who matters."
I couldn't believe him.
"You got a car you didn't earn."
His face reddened.
"At least I don't spend my life trying to be perfect."
The words hurt.
For years, I'd worked hard because I believed achievements were something nobody could take away from me.
Now Jordan was using them as a weapon.
Dad stood.
"That's enough."
Jordan looked at him.
"Whatever, man."
Then he left.
The front door slammed.
I stared at the empty doorway.
Dad sat beside me.
"Are you okay?"
I shook my head.
"No."
He nodded.
"That's understandable."
I swallowed.
"Dad, do you still love Denise?"
He looked surprised.
Then he sighed.
"I don't know what I feel right now."
I looked down.
"Are you going to divorce her?"
He was quiet.
"I need to understand everything first."
I nodded.
I didn't want to control his marriage.
I just wanted to feel safe in my own home.
Later that day, Dad took me to meet an attorney.
Her name was Rachel Brooks.
She was a calm woman in her forties who specialized in family estates and financial disputes.
She listened carefully as Dad explained the situation.
Then she asked me a question.
"Maya, has Denise ever asked you to sign financial documents?"
I thought for a moment.
"Not really."
"Anything connected to your mother's estate?"
I hesitated.
There was something.
Three months earlier, Denise had asked me to sign a form for a supposed school insurance program.
She said it would help cover college expenses.
I remembered thinking the document looked strange.
But she'd become annoyed when I asked questions.
"Just sign it, Maya. I don't have all day."
I told Rachel.
Her expression became serious.
"Do you have a copy?"
I shook my head.
"Denise kept it."
Dad looked sick.
Rachel wrote something down.
"We'll request the relevant records."
She explained that the trustee replacement request had not been approved.
The independent trustee had questioned the paperwork.
That was why the bank contacted Dad.
I exhaled.
"So my inheritance is still there?"
Rachel nodded.
"As far as the records currently show, the principal remains protected."
I felt tears rise.
For the first time since yesterday, I could breathe.
But Rachel wasn't finished.
She opened another file.
"There was also an attempt to request an early distribution."
Dad frowned.
"How much?"
"Seventy-five thousand dollars."
My stomach tightened.
"For what?"
Rachel looked directly at me.
"The application described an urgent educational expense."
I stared at her.
"What educational expense?"
She hesitated.
"A private career development program."
Dad looked confused.
"That's not Maya's college."
Rachel nodded.
"No."
Then she turned the document toward us.
The program's listed applicant was Jordan.
I stared at his name.
I couldn't speak.
Jordan's business.
Jordan's expenses.
Jordan's future.
Again.
My mother's inheritance had almost become another gift for Denise's son.
Dad covered his face.
Rachel continued carefully.
"The request was rejected because it did not meet the trust's requirements."
I looked at Dad.
"She tried to use Mom's money for Jordan."
He nodded slowly.
I felt tears spilling down my cheeks.
Mom had died when I was nine.
I barely remembered the sound of her laugh.
I kept her photographs in a box beneath my bed.
Sometimes, when I missed her badly, I opened the box and held her favorite scarf.
The money she left me wasn't simply money.
It was one of the last ways she'd tried to protect me.
And Denise had tried to take it.
I looked at Rachel.
"Can she do it again?"
Rachel shook her head.
"We'll coordinate with the trustee to strengthen safeguards and preserve the records."
I nodded.
Then she asked whether I had any documents Denise might have accessed.
I remembered something.
My mother's old file box.
It had disappeared from my closet two months earlier.
Denise claimed she'd moved it during cleaning.
I told Rachel.
Dad turned toward me.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I did."
His expression changed.
"You did?"
I nodded.
"You said Denise probably put it somewhere safe."
He closed his eyes.
I could see the guilt on his face.
Rachel spoke gently.
"Let's focus on finding the documents."
That evening, we returned home.
Denise and Jordan were still gone.
Dad helped me search the storage room.
After almost an hour, we found the box.
It was hidden behind several old suitcases.
My mother's photographs were inside.
Her letters.
Her jewelry.
But something was missing.
A sealed envelope she'd written for my eighteenth birthday.
I stared at the empty space.
Dad looked concerned.
"What is it?"
I swallowed.
"Mom left me a letter."
He nodded.
"I remember."
"It's gone."
Dad's face tightened.
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
I watched his expression change.
"What do you mean?"
Silence.
"Are you sure?"
Another pause.
Then he looked at me.
"Okay. Thank you."
He ended the call.
I stood.
"Dad?"
His face was pale.
"That was the bank."
My stomach tightened.
"What happened?"
He took a slow breath.
"Someone tried to withdraw another thirty thousand dollars this morning."
I stared at him.
"From my trust?"
He nodded.
"The request was blocked."
I felt cold.
Then Dad added something that frightened me even more.
"The application was submitted using your identity."
I looked at him.
"But I didn't sign anything."
He swallowed.
"I know."
May you like
And suddenly, I understood that Denise wasn't just trying to steal my inheritance.
She was trying to make it look like I had given it away.
