Chapter 6 - The Son Who Finally Told the Truth
I called Jordan back immediately.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
I looked toward Patricia.
"Stay with Malik."
She stood.
"What happened?"
"Jordan says Denise is trying to destroy evidence."
I called Detective Harris.
She listened carefully.
Then she told me not to return to the house alone or confront Denise.
I gave her Jordan's number and explained everything he had said.
"I'll follow up," she replied.
I hung up and looked at my son.
He had stopped working on the puzzle.
"Is Jordan okay?"
I stared at him.
After everything Jordan had done, Malik was still worried about him.
"I don't know yet."
Malik looked down.
"He isn't always bad."
The words surprised me.
"What do you mean?"
He shrugged.
"Sometimes when Denise wasn't around, he acted normal."
I sat beside him.
"Did he ever apologize?"
"Once."
"When?"
"After he broke my headphones."
"What did he say?"
"That he was sorry, but Mom said I didn't deserve expensive things."
I closed my eyes.
Denise had spent years turning affection into competition.
She told Jordan that anything Malik received was something stolen from him.
She told Malik that his existence was a burden.
And I had been too distracted to see the damage.
That evening, Detective Harris contacted me.
Jordan was safe.
He had agreed to speak with investigators.
I felt relief wash over me.
But she warned that the financial investigation was becoming complicated.
Denise appeared to have used multiple accounts and business entities.
Jordan had provided information that could help identify them.
I asked whether Denise had destroyed anything.
"We're taking steps to preserve relevant evidence," she said.
I thanked her.
Then I went to Malik's room.
He was lying on the bed reading.
"Good news," I said.
He sat up.
"What?"
"Jordan is safe."
He nodded.
"Okay."
I hesitated.
"Do you want to talk about him?"
Malik considered the question.
"Not really."
"That's fine."
He looked at me.
"Dad?"
"Yes?"
"If Jordan says sorry, do I have to forgive him?"
I sat beside him.
"No."
He looked surprised.
"Really?"
"Forgiveness is your choice. Nobody gets to demand it."
He thought about that.
"Denise always made me apologize first."
I nodded.
"That was wrong."
"Even when I didn't do anything?"
"Especially then."
He returned to his book.
I stayed beside him for a while.
I wanted him to get used to being heard.
The following morning, Samuel called with more details.
Investigators and financial specialists were tracing transactions connected to Jordan's company.
It appeared that Denise had used the business to receive money from several questionable sources.
Some funds came from Malik's trust.
Others appeared to have come through credit accounts opened using my information.
But there was another discovery.
Denise had also been transferring money from our joint household account into a separate account.
For years, I had deposited enough money into that account to cover family expenses.
She managed household payments while I handled my company.
I had trusted her.
Samuel explained that the exact legal status of each transfer would need review.
But the pattern was alarming.
"Arthur, she was moving money in repeated amounts over a long period."
"How long?"
"At least eighteen months, based on what we've confirmed."
I looked at my desk.
Eighteen months.
Nearly two years.
While I was working long days to provide for our family, Denise was quietly building a financial life I knew nothing about.
"What was she buying?" I asked.
"Some funds appear to have supported Jordan's business. Other expenses remain under review."
I thought of the expensive watches Jordan suddenly began wearing.
The new electronics.
The designer clothes.
Denise always said she had found discounts.
I never questioned it.
I had been proud that our family seemed comfortable.
Now I wondered whether part of that comfort had been purchased with money stolen from Malik's future.
Later that day, I received a call from someone I hadn't spoken with in years.
Evelyn's old friend, Monica Reed.
She sounded anxious.
"Arthur, Patricia told me what happened."
I sighed.
"I wish nobody had to hear this."
"There's something I need to tell you."
I sat down.
"What?"
"Denise contacted me months ago."
I frowned.
"Why?"
"She was asking about Evelyn's insurance and estate."
My stomach tightened.
"What did you tell her?"
"Nothing important. I said I didn't know the details."
Monica paused.
"But the questions were strange."
"How strange?"
"She wanted to know whether Evelyn had left money outside the trust. She asked whether Malik would receive anything when he turned eighteen."
I felt cold.
"Did she say why?"
"She claimed she was planning for his education."
I rubbed my forehead.
Monica continued.
"Arthur, I should have called you."
"You couldn't have known."
She grew quiet.
Then she said, "There was one thing that bothered me."
"What?"
"She asked whether Evelyn had left any letters for Malik."
I stopped breathing.
Letters.
Evelyn had written several before she died.
One for Malik's sixteenth birthday.
Another for his eighteenth.
And a final letter for the day he graduated.
I had placed them inside a locked wooden box.
The box stayed in my office.
Or at least it had.
I stood.
"Monica, thank you."
I ended the call and immediately contacted Patricia.
"Do you remember Evelyn's letters?"
"Of course."
"Denise was asking about them."
Patricia inhaled.
"Arthur, the birthday letter."
My heart sank.
Malik had turned sixteen six weeks earlier.
I had been traveling for work.
Denise organized a small birthday dinner.
When I returned, I planned to give Malik the letter.
But the wooden box was missing.
Denise told me she had moved it while cleaning.
Then I became busy.
I forgot to ask again.
Now I felt ashamed all over again.
I went to Malik.
"Son, did you receive anything from your mother on your birthday?"
His eyes widened.
"What do you mean?"
"A letter."
He stared at me.
"Mom wrote me a letter?"
My throat tightened.
"Yes."
He sat completely still.
"Where is it?"
I swallowed.
"I don't know yet."
His expression crumpled.
"Dad, did Denise take it?"
I couldn't answer.
He covered his face.
For several minutes, he cried so hard that I feared he couldn't catch his breath.
I held him and promised that I would try to find every letter Evelyn had left.
Then my phone rang.
It was Detective Harris.
"Mr. Coleman, Jordan has given us additional information."
I stood.
"About the money?"
"Yes. But also about personal items Denise removed from your office."
My heart pounded.
"What items?"
"A wooden box."
I closed my eyes.
"Did he say where it is?"
"He believes Denise placed it in a storage unit."
I gripped the phone.
Detective Harris continued.
"And according to Jordan, Denise told him something very specific."
"What?"
"She said the letters could turn Malik against her permanently."
I looked toward my son.
He was wiping his tears.
I knew then that recovering those letters wasn't simply about memories.
It was about giving my child back something sacred.
May you like
Something his mother had left for him.
And I was determined that Denise would never take another piece of his childhood.
