Chapter 4
I stood in the kitchen holding my phone.
Renee's words echoed in my mind.
Tasha laughed when Denise called him a tenant.
For a moment, I couldn't understand how our family had reached this point.
I'd welcomed Tasha into my home.
Paid for her education.
Helped her through difficult semesters.
And treated her like part of the family.
But while Malik was being forced to pay rent, Tasha had apparently watched.
And laughed.
I felt sick.
I ended the call with Renee.
Then looked toward the living room.
Tasha was sitting on the sofa with her laptop.
She wore a cream-colored sweatshirt and headphones.
A coffee cup rested on the table beside her.
I approached quietly.
“Tasha?”
She looked up.
“Hey, Marcus.”
“Can we talk?”
She removed her headphones.
“Sure.”
I sat across from her.
For a moment, I studied her face.
She looked relaxed.
Comfortable.
Unaware of the storm building around her.
I took a breath.
“Did you know Denise was charging Malik rent?”
Her expression changed.
Only slightly.
But I noticed.
“Mom said he was contributing.”
I nodded.
“How much?”
She hesitated.
“I don't know.”
I leaned forward.
“Tasha, please.”
She looked away.
“Eighty dollars.”
My chest tightened.
“So you knew.”
She sighed.
“Marcus, it's not a big deal.”
I stared at her.
“Not a big deal?”
She shrugged.
“He has a job.”
I took a breath.
“And?”
“He should learn responsibility.”
I looked at her.
“Then how much rent do you pay?”
Silence.
Tasha's expression tightened.
“That's different.”
I almost laughed.
Those exact words.
The same ones Denise had used.
I stared at her.
“How?”
She folded her arms.
“I'm in college.”
“Malik is in high school.”
She looked away.
I continued.
“Neither of you is required to pay rent under some competition for who deserves a home.”
Tasha sighed.
“Marcus, you're overreacting.”
My chest tightened.
Then I asked the question I'd been avoiding.
“Did you laugh when Denise called Malik a tenant?”
She froze.
For a moment, she didn't answer.
Then she looked down.
“It was a joke.”
I stared at her.
“A joke?”
She nodded weakly.
“Mom said he needed to pay his share.”
I felt tears rise.
“And Malik?”
Tasha looked uncomfortable.
“He didn't laugh.”
I closed my eyes.
Of course he didn't.
My son had been standing in his own home while two people made him feel unwanted.
And the humiliation had been dismissed as a joke.
I took a slow breath.
“Tasha, did you know he was afraid of being sent away?”
Her expression changed.
“What?”
I watched her carefully.
“He was packing his suitcase yesterday.”
She looked genuinely surprised.
“Why?”
“Because Denise gave him a notice saying he had to pay or leave.”
Tasha stared at me.
Then whispered, “She actually did that?”
I nodded.
Her eyes widened.
“I thought she was just trying to scare him.”
My stomach dropped.
“Scare him?”
She looked down.
“Mom said he needed motivation.”
I stared at her.
Then I asked, “Motivation for what?”
Tasha hesitated.
“For giving her more money.”
The room went silent.
I felt cold.
“What?”
Tasha immediately looked frightened.
“Marcus, I didn't mean—”
I leaned forward.
“More money?”
She swallowed.
Then nodded.
“Mom said Malik was hiding savings.”
My heart pounded.
“What savings?”
Tasha looked down.
“The money from his job.”
I stared at her.
She continued.
“She said if she didn't teach him to share, he'd become selfish.”
I closed my eyes.
My son had been saving money.
And Denise had apparently decided those savings belonged to her.
I took a breath.
“Tasha, did Denise ever use Malik's debit card?”
She froze.
I watched her face.
Then she whispered, “Sometimes.”
My stomach dropped.
“Did you use it?”
She looked away.
I felt cold.
“Tasha.”
Her eyes filled.
“Mom gave it to me.”
I stared at her.
“For what?”
She began crying.
“For some things I needed.”
My chest tightened.
“What things?”
She looked down.
“Clothes.”
I swallowed.
“And?”
“A desk.”
My hands began shaking.
The furniture.
The purchases.
The disputed transactions.
I stared at her.
“Did you know it was Malik's money?”
She covered her face.
“Not at first.”
I waited.
Then she whispered, “Later, yes.”
My heart broke.
I looked away.
For a moment, I couldn't speak.
Then I asked one more question.
“Why didn't you tell me?”
Tasha began crying harder.
“Because Mom said you'd stop helping me with college.”
I closed my eyes.
There it was.
Another threat.
Another person made afraid of losing support.
Denise had been using money to control both children.
I took a breath.
“Tasha, you need to tell me exactly what happened.”
She nodded weakly.
Then she explained.
Denise had given her Malik's card in July.
She said it was a household card.
Tasha used it to buy clothes.
Then Denise told her the money came from Malik's savings.
When Tasha questioned it, Denise said he owed the family.
Tasha admitted she'd kept using the card afterward.
I felt sick.
I looked at her.
“You're twenty-two.”
She nodded.
“You knew it was wrong.”
Tears streamed down her face.
“Yes.”
I took a breath.
“Then you need to take responsibility.”
She nodded again.
“I know.”
I looked toward the staircase.
“Malik trusted both of you.”
Tasha covered her face.
I continued.
“And he deserves better.”
For a long time, neither of us spoke.
Then Tasha whispered, “Can I apologize?”
I looked at her.
“Yes.”
Her eyes brightened slightly.
“But an apology doesn't replace the money or erase what happened.”
She nodded.
“I understand.”
I stood.
Then she said something that stopped me.
“Marcus?”
I turned.
She looked frightened.
“Mom has another card.”
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
Tasha wiped her cheeks.
“She said it was connected to Malik's college savings.”
For a moment, I couldn't breathe.
Malik's college savings.
The account Danielle and I had opened when he was born.
The money we'd contributed for years.
I stared at Tasha.
“What card?”
She swallowed.
“She keeps it in her jewelry box.”
May you like
My heart began pounding.
And suddenly, I realized the money taken from Malik's part-time job might be only the beginning.
