Chapter 2
I barely slept that night.
Dad never came home.
Mom locked every door twice.
Then she checked the windows.
Then she checked the back door again.
I watched her move through the house like someone preparing for a storm.
At midnight, I found her sitting at the kitchen table.
No lights were on except the small one above the stove.
A mug of tea sat untouched in front of her.
“Tell me.”
She looked up.
“Jordan, go to bed.”
“I’m not ten.”
“I know.”
“Then stop treating me like I can’t handle the truth.”
Her fingers tightened around the mug.
“It isn’t about whether you can handle it.”
“What is it about?”
“Keeping you safe.”
I sat across from her.
“Safe from Dad?”
She didn’t answer.
My stomach tightened.
“Mom.”
“Yes.”
One word.
That was all.
But everything changed.
I leaned back.
“Safe from what?”
She looked toward the hallway.
Even though Dad wasn’t there, she lowered her voice.
“Your father owes money.”
“To who?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“How much?”
“A lot.”
“That doesn’t explain why he’s been hurting you.”
“No.”
She took a breath.
“But it explains what happened tonight.”
I waited.
Mom rubbed her forehead.
“Three years ago, Marcus lost his job.”
I frowned.
Dad had told me he quit because his boss was disrespecting him.
“He didn’t quit?”
“No.”
“He was fired?”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
“He was accused of taking money from the company.”
I stared at her.
“How much?”
“Almost forty thousand dollars.”
The number seemed unreal.
“Did he do it?”
Mom’s silence answered me again.
“He told me it was temporary,” she continued. “He said he planned to put everything back.”
I laughed bitterly.
“That’s stealing.”
“I know.”
“Did the company call the police?”
“They agreed not to press charges if he repaid it.”
“How?”
“Our savings.”
My chest tightened.
“What savings?”
Mom looked at me.
“The college fund.”
I stopped breathing for a second.
“My college fund?”
She nodded.
I stood so fast the chair scraped against the floor.
“He took my college money?”
“Jordan—”
“All of it?”
“Most of it.”
I turned away.
For years, Dad had been telling me to work hard.
Get scholarships.
Build my future.
Meanwhile, he had emptied the money my parents had supposedly saved for me.
“You knew?”
“I found out after.”
“And you stayed?”
“I thought it was the worst thing he would ever do.”
“But it wasn’t.”
“No.”
She started crying again.
After losing his job, Dad began borrowing money.
At first from relatives.
Then banks.
Then people Mom didn’t know.
He started gambling.
Sports bets.
Cards.
Online accounts.
Anything that promised quick money.
“He kept saying one win would fix everything.”
Mom’s voice became distant.
“One win became another loss.”
“How bad?”
“I don’t know anymore.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“He stopped letting me see the accounts.”
I stared at her.
“Your accounts too?”
“He opened things in my name.”
My anger became something heavier.
“Without asking?”
“Yes.”
“Credit cards?”
“Yes.”
“Loans?”
“Yes.”
I sat back down.
“How much?”
Mom shook her head.
“I stopped counting after eighty thousand.”
I whispered something I shouldn’t have.
She didn’t react.
“He told me if I reported him, we would lose the house,” she said.
“Would we?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then why believe him?”
“Because every time I tried to leave, he reminded me that my name was attached to some of it.”
I understood.
Dad had trapped her financially.
Then he had convinced her escape was impossible.
“When did he start hitting you?”
Her face hardened.
“The first time I confronted him about a loan.”
My hands curled underneath the table.
“He slapped me.”
She said it quietly.
Like she was describing something that had happened to someone else.
“He apologized for three days afterward. Bought flowers. Cooked dinner. Cried.”
I looked away.
“And you believed him.”
“I wanted to.”
“Then?”
“Months passed.”
She swallowed.
“Then it happened again.”
I didn’t want details.
At the same time, I needed every one.
“Tonight?”
“He found out I talked to an attorney.”
I stared at her.
“You were planning to leave?”
She nodded.
For the first time that night, hope appeared.
Tiny.
But real.
“I’ve been preparing for months.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because I wanted everything ready first.”
“What does ready mean?”
She stood.
“Come with me.”
We walked into her bedroom.
She closed the door.
Then she moved toward the closet.
At first I thought she was reaching for clothes.
Instead, she crouched and pushed aside several pairs of shoes.
She pulled up a loose piece of wood beneath the bottom shelf.
There was a small metal box underneath.
I stared at her.
“What is that?”
“Insurance.”
She carried it to the bed.
Inside were papers.
Bank statements.
Copies of IDs.
Photographs.
A flash drive.
And a second cell phone.
I looked at her.
“You’ve been collecting evidence.”
“For six months.”
I picked up one photograph.
It showed bruising on Mom’s upper arm.
Another showed a damaged bedroom door.
Another showed a hole punched into the wall.
My chest tightened.
“Mom.”
“I know.”
“No. You don’t understand.”
I held up the photograph.
“I lived here.”
She looked down.
“I know.”
“I walked past this door every day.”
“He told you the damage came from moving furniture.”
“And I believed him.”
“You were supposed to.”
I looked through the documents.
One paper caught my attention.
My name was printed near the top.
I pulled it free.
“What is this?”
Mom froze.
“Jordan.”
“What is this?”
It was a loan agreement.
Twenty-five thousand dollars.
Borrower:
Jordan Ellis.
My birth date was correct.
My address was correct.
But I had never seen the document in my life.
My signature was at the bottom.
Except it wasn’t my signature.
I looked at Mom.
“He took out a loan in my name?”
Her eyes filled.
“I discovered it two weeks ago.”
I couldn’t speak.
“I was trying to fix it before you found out.”
“How can he even do this? I’m seventeen.”
“That’s why I contacted the attorney.”
My hands started shaking.
Dad had stolen my college money.
Destroyed Mom’s credit.
Borrowed money under my identity.
And when she tried to stop him, he threatened her.
“What happened tonight?”
Mom sat on the bed.
“He found the lawyer’s business card.”
“How?”
“I left my purse downstairs for five minutes.”
“And he searched it?”
“Yes.”
I thought about the moment I entered.
His arm raised.
Her body against the wall.
My throat tightened.
“We’re going to the police.”
Mom shook her head.
“Tomorrow.”
“Why tomorrow?”
“Because tonight I need to make copies of everything and send them somewhere safe.”
“Where?”
“My sister.”
“Aunt Renee knows?”
“Some of it.”
I stared at her.
Then another thought hit me.
“Mom.”
“Yes?”
“Dad said I should ask you what you did.”
Her entire body stiffened.
“That wasn’t about the lawyer, was it?”
She didn’t answer.
“What did you do?”
Her eyes moved to the metal box.
Then she reached underneath the documents.
At the very bottom was a sealed envelope.
My name was written across the front.
I recognized Dad’s handwriting.
“What is that?”
“I found it yesterday.”
“Where?”
“In his truck.”
“Why were you searching his truck?”
“Because I heard him talking to someone on the phone.”
“About what?”
“You.”
The room suddenly felt smaller.
I reached for the envelope.
Mom caught my wrist.
“Jordan.”
“What?”
“Once you read this, you can’t unread it.”
I stared at her.
“After tonight, I don’t think there’s anything left he can do that would surprise me.”
Mom’s face collapsed.
“That’s what I thought too.”
She released my wrist.
I opened the envelope.
Inside was a copy of my birth certificate.
At first, nothing looked unusual.
Then I noticed a second document.
A letter.
Twenty years old.
Dad’s name appeared several times.
So did Mom’s.
And one unfamiliar name.
I read the first paragraph.
Then again.
My hands went cold.
I looked at Mom.
“Who is Anthony Carter?”
Mom started crying.
I looked back at the letter.
May you like
Then I saw the sentence that changed everything.
Anthony Carter believed he was my biological father.
