Chapter 4
"Don't sign anything."
Raymond's voice was firm.
I stood beside the restaurant table, my heart pounding.
Maya was crying on the phone.
"She says it's for my future."
Raymond looked toward me.
I shook my head.
He continued, "Maya, where are you?"
"At home."
"Is your mother there?"
"Yes."
I reached for my phone and called Geraldine.
Straight to voicemail.
I tried again.
No answer.
Then Maya whispered, "She doesn't know I'm calling you."
Raymond took a breath.
"Listen carefully. You're an adult. You can ask for time to review any document."
Maya sniffled.
"Okay."
"And you don't have to sign something because somebody is angry."
I watched him.
For the first time, I heard him speak to my daughter like a father rather than a charming stranger.
Then she asked, "Is Arthur there?"
I stopped breathing.
Raymond glanced at me.
"Yes."
Silence.
Then Maya whispered, "Can I talk to him?"
He handed me the phone.
My hands trembled.
"Sweetheart?"
She began crying harder.
"Arthur?"
I closed my eyes.
It hurt hearing my name instead of Dad.
But at least she had called.
"I'm here."
She swallowed.
"Mom says you want to punish her."
I looked toward the window.
"That's not true."
"She says you're trying to turn me against her."
I took a breath.
"Maya, I'm trying to understand what happened."
She was quiet.
Then she whispered, "Are you angry with me?"
My throat tightened.
I remembered the photograph.
The words she'd thrown at me.
The way I had felt after she called me nothing more than her mother's husband.
I could have answered with my hurt.
Instead, I thought about the little girl who once called me Daddy.
"I'm hurt," I admitted.
She began crying.
"I know."
"But I love you."
She was silent.
"And I don't stop loving you because we disagree."
Her breath caught.
I continued.
"Please don't sign anything until you've had a chance to understand it."
She whispered, "Okay."
Then I said, "Would you like me to come home?"
There was a long silence.
Finally, she answered.
"Yes."
I nearly cried.
"I'm coming."
Raymond drove behind me.
When we reached the house, Geraldine's car was in the driveway.
I walked through the front door.
The living room looked exactly as it had during our argument.
Cream sofa.
Marble coffee table.
Broken picture frame.
But now there were papers scattered across the table.
Maya sat in the corner, crying.
Geraldine stood beside her.
When she saw me, her expression hardened.
"Arthur."
I looked at the documents.
"What are those?"
She folded her arms.
"Family paperwork."
I stepped closer.
"Why are you asking Maya to sign them?"
Geraldine glanced toward Raymond.
Her face changed.
"What is HE doing here?"
Raymond remained near the doorway.
"I'm here because Maya called me."
Geraldine laughed bitterly.
"Of course she did."
Maya stood.
"Mom, stop."
Geraldine turned sharply.
"Stay out of this."
My daughter flinched.
I felt anger rise.
"Don't speak to her like that."
Geraldine stared at me.
"You don't get to tell me how to raise my daughter."
The words struck an old wound.
I took a breath.
"Then explain the documents."
She refused.
I picked up the top page.
It was an authorization form connected to a family trust.
Maya's name appeared as beneficiary.
Geraldine's company appeared as financial manager.
My stomach tightened.
I looked toward Raymond.
His expression changed.
"That's the trust."
Geraldine went pale.
I turned toward her.
"Why are you trying to get Maya to sign control over her account?"
She shook her head.
"I'm helping her."
Raymond stepped closer.
"By transferring authority to your business?"
Geraldine snapped, "You have no right to question me!"
He stared at her.
"I helped fund that account."
Maya looked up.
"What account?"
The room went silent.
I slowly turned toward her.
"Sweetheart, your grandmother left money for you."
Her eyes widened.
"What?"
Raymond nodded.
"My mother wanted you to have financial security."
Maya stared at him.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
He looked ashamed.
"I should have."
Geraldine stepped forward.
"That money was never supposed to be available this way."
I frowned.
"What does that mean?"
She looked away.
I picked up another statement.
The withdrawal was there.
Forty-two thousand dollars.
I held it up.
"Geraldine, where did this money go?"
She crossed her arms.
"Into the family business."
My chest tightened.
"You transferred it?"
She nodded.
"For an investment."
I stared at her.
"Did Maya authorize it?"
Geraldine hesitated.
"She's my daughter."
My voice became cold.
"That's not what I asked."
She looked away.
Maya began crying.
"Mom, you took money from my account?"
Geraldine raised her voice.
"I used it for the family!"
My daughter stared at her.
"I didn't even know it existed."
Geraldine looked toward me.
"This is your fault."
I laughed bitterly.
"My fault?"
"If you hadn't started digging, nobody would be upset."
I stared at her.
She wasn't ashamed of taking the money.
She was angry that we had discovered it.
Maya slowly approached the table.
She picked up the statement.
Her fingers trembled.
"Forty-two thousand dollars?"
Geraldine said nothing.
Maya looked toward Raymond.
"Was this supposed to be mine?"
He nodded.
"Yes."
Then she looked at me.
I saw something change in her face.
Confusion.
Shame.
Regret.
But before she could speak, Geraldine grabbed the paperwork.
"This conversation is over."
I stepped backward rather than argue.
"No. We're getting legal advice."
She laughed.
"Over family money?"
"Over unauthorized transfers."
Her face hardened.
"You wouldn't dare."
I looked directly at her.
"Watch me."
That evening, Maya left with Raymond to stay at a hotel near his home.
It was her choice.
I didn't stop her.
Geraldine went upstairs and locked our bedroom door.
I sat alone in the living room.
The broken family photograph still lay on the table.
I picked it up.
The glass cut wasn't deep, but a tiny shard scratched my finger.
I barely noticed.
I stared at the picture.
Maya was seventeen.
Smiling between Geraldine and me.
Her arms wrapped around our shoulders.
I remembered that day.
She'd graduated from high school with honors.
I was so proud I could barely speak.
Now I wondered how long Geraldine had been hiding the truth.
Then my phone buzzed.
A message from Maya.
ARTHUR, I'M SORRY ABOUT WHAT I SAID.
I stared at the screen.
My eyes filled with tears.
Another message appeared.
I DIDN'T KNOW.
I took a breath.
Then I typed:
I LOVE YOU, SWEETHEART. WE'LL TALK WHEN YOU'RE READY.
I sent it.
For the first time since our argument, hope returned.
Then another message arrived.
This one was from an unknown number.
It contained a photograph.
Geraldine standing beside a man outside a bank.
The date was six months earlier.
Beneath it was one sentence.
ASK YOUR WIFE WHAT HAPPENED TO THE REST OF THE TRUST.
I stared at the photograph.
Because I recognized the man.
May you like
He was Geraldine's brother, Calvin.
And I suddenly realized that forty-two thousand dollars might be only the beginning.
