Chapter 5
Two days later, Denise returned.
I was sitting at the kitchen table reviewing my university paperwork when I heard her car pull into the driveway.
Dad had already consulted Rebecca about what could legally be done regarding the house and their marriage.
He had changed access codes to his private office, secured important documents, and arranged for Denise's belongings to be collected without allowing her access to my room.
But Denise still had unresolved rights concerning the marital home.
Rebecca had warned us not to take matters into our own hands.
So when Denise walked inside, Dad remained calm.
I didn't.
The moment I saw her, my chest tightened.
She wore large sunglasses and carried two shopping bags.
As if nothing had happened.
As if she hadn't stolen my savings and tried to interfere with my college enrollment.
"Well," she said, looking around, "I see everyone's still being dramatic."
Dad stood.
"We need to talk."
Denise placed her bags on the counter.
"About what?"
"The money. The loan application. The house. And Raymond Price."
Her expression changed.
It happened so quickly that I almost missed it.
But I saw her fingers tighten around the shopping bag.
"Who?"
Dad stared at her.
"Raymond."
She looked away.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
I couldn't stop myself.
"Then why were you photographed with him outside a bank?"
Denise turned toward me.
"Stay out of adult business."
I stood.
"You used my name to get money. That makes it my business."
She opened her mouth.
Dad interrupted.
"Jasmine is an adult. And you will speak to her respectfully."
Denise laughed bitterly.
"Oh, now she's an adult? Convenient."
Dad took a document from the table.
"Rebecca found records of your previous marriage."
Denise went completely still.
"What records?"
"Records involving Raymond Price."
Her face paled.
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Then she sighed.
"Fine. Raymond is my ex-husband."
Dad crossed his arms.
"Why didn't you tell me his name?"
"Because it was a terrible marriage."
"Did you tell me everything about the divorce?"
"Yes."
Dad placed another document beside the first.
"Then why are there inconsistencies in the papers you gave me?"
Denise looked down.
"I don't know."
"Rebecca is having the records verified."
Her expression hardened.
"You're investigating me?"
Dad nodded.
"Yes."
She stared at him.
Then she turned toward me.
"This is what you've done."
I shook my head.
"No. This is what you did."
Her face twisted.
"You've hated me since I married your father."
I felt tears rise.
"I wanted you to like me."
That stopped her.
For a moment, her expression changed.
I continued.
"When you first moved in, I tried so hard."
I remembered the first Christmas after Dad remarried.
I had bought Denise a bracelet with money from babysitting.
It wasn't expensive.
But I wrapped it carefully and wrote a card thanking her for being part of our family.
She had smiled when she opened it.
Then she gave the bracelet to a friend because, according to her, it wasn't her style.
I hadn't told Dad.
I didn't want to cause another argument.
"I tried to be your daughter," I whispered.
Denise looked away.
"I never asked you to."
The words hit me like a slap.
Dad stepped forward.
"Denise."
But I raised my hand.
"No, Dad. Let her finish."
I looked directly at her.
"Did you ever care about me?"
She folded her arms.
"I cared about keeping this family together."
"That wasn't my question."
She said nothing.
I felt something inside me finally break.
Not because she refused to say she loved me.
But because I realized I had spent five years begging for affection from someone who saw me as an inconvenience.
Dad placed a hand on my shoulder.
"Jasmine, you don't have to do this."
I nodded.
Then I walked upstairs.
I sat on my bed and cried into my pillow.
For my mother.
For my father.
For the little girl who thought being obedient and useful would make her stepmother love her.
After a while, someone knocked.
It was Jordan.
I almost told him to leave.
But he spoke first.
"Jasmine, can I come in?"
I wiped my face.
"What do you want?"
He entered slowly.
He wasn't holding his new phone.
His hands were empty.
"I returned the electronics."
I stared at him.
"What?"
"The phone, the watch, the earbuds. Everything they would take back."
I didn't answer.
"I gave the refunds to Dad so they could go toward your money."
I looked at him.
"Why?"
He sat on the edge of my desk chair.
"Because I finally understand what Mom did."
I laughed bitterly.
"You understood when you asked whether I'd paid the rest."
He lowered his eyes.
"I know."
"You knew she was making me leave."
"I thought she was bluffing."
"You watched me cry."
His face tightened.
"You're right."
I stared at him.
For years, Jordan had been the center of Denise's world.
She bought him whatever he wanted.
If he failed a class, she blamed the teacher.
If he lost a job, she blamed the manager.
If he broke something, she found someone else to replace it.
I had always assumed he enjoyed the arrangement.
Maybe he did.
But now he looked ashamed.
"I was selfish," he said quietly. "I liked getting things without having to work for them."
I said nothing.
"I knew Mom treated you differently. I just didn't want to lose what I was getting."
The honesty surprised me.
"Then why are you telling me this?"
"Because when Dad asked where the money came from, I realized I didn't actually want to know."
He swallowed.
"That means I knew something was wrong."
I looked at him.
"Did you know about the loan?"
"No."
"Did you know about the college withdrawal?"
His expression changed.
"What withdrawal?"
I explained.
Jordan stood abruptly.
"She tried to cancel your college?"
I nodded.
His face went pale.
"That's not what she told me."
My heart started racing.
"What did she tell you?"
He looked toward the hallway.
"She said you were planning to move away and cut Dad out of your life."
I stared at him.
"What?"
"She said you thought you were too good for this family."
I shook my head.
"That's a lie."
"I know that now."
Then he said something that made my blood run cold.
"Mom told me that once you left for college, Dad would start asking questions about the savings account."
I froze.
"Why?"
Jordan looked at me.
"Because she'd been using your money for longer than you think."
I stood.
"What do you mean?"
He swallowed.
"She told me she needed to replace it before you turned twenty-one."
I felt dizzy.
"But I'm nineteen."
"I know."
"Jordan, what money?"
He looked terrified.
"Your mother's money."
I stopped breathing.
"My mother's money?"
He nodded.
"The inheritance."
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
My mother had died when I was eight.
Dad had always told me she'd left something for my future.
But I thought it was safely protected until I finished college.
I stared at Jordan.
"How much?"
He shook his head.
"I don't know."
"Where is it?"
"I don't know that either."
Then he reached into his pocket and handed me a folded paper.
"I found this in Mom's office."
I opened it.
At the top was my full name.
Below it was an account reference.
And beside the account reference was a handwritten figure.
$184,600.
I stared at the number.
One hundred eighty-four thousand six hundred dollars.
My knees weakened.
Jordan caught my arm.
"Jasmine?"
I could barely breathe.
May you like
Because if Denise had touched my mother's inheritance, she hadn't simply stolen money.
She had stolen the last gift my mother had left me.
