Chapter 2: The Twenty-Eight Thousand Dollar Secret
“Twenty-eight thousand dollars?”” I repeated.
The number sounded unreal.
My college savings account had been part of my life for as long as I could remember. Dad used to show me the statements on my birthday, explaining how every deposit brought me closer to a future where I wouldn't have to choose between buying textbooks and paying rent.
When I was little, I imagined the account as a giant glass jar filled with coins.
As I grew older, I understood what those deposits represented.
Dad's overtime shifts.
His skipped vacations.
The lunches he packed instead of buying food at work.
The money he'd saved by keeping his old pickup running long after its air conditioner stopped working.
And now he was telling me that twenty-eight thousand dollars had disappeared.
I stared at him.
“Dad, how?””
He held the statement tightly.
“That's what I'm trying to find out.””
Denise finally recovered her voice.
“This is a ridiculous conversation to have outside.””
“Then let's go inside,” Dad replied.
She reached for his arm.
“Marcus, you're tired. You've been working all day. We can discuss this privately after you've had dinner.””
He stepped away from her.
“I received a call from the bank at eleven this morning. They asked me to verify several transfers from Maya's education account. I told them I hadn't authorized any.””
Denise's lips parted.
Dad continued.
“They froze the remaining balance while they investigate. The account was supposed to hold more than thirty thousand dollars. There's barely enough left to cover one semester.””
My stomach lurched.
“One semester?””
He nodded.
I couldn't speak.
I'd already been accepted to a state university three hours away. I had a scholarship, but it didn't cover everything. Dad had assured me we would manage because he'd spent years preparing.
I'd believed him.
I'd built my entire future around that belief.
Jordan suddenly shoved his hands into his pockets.
“Maybe the bank made a mistake.””
Dad looked at him.
“That's possible. Which is why I want the records before I accuse anyone.””
Denise seized the opportunity.
“Exactly! Banks make mistakes all the time. Marcus, you know how complicated these accounts can be. Perhaps someone entered the wrong number.””
Dad studied her face.
“Then you won't mind helping me understand the transfers.””
“I have nothing to do with Maya's account.””
“You've been handling household paperwork for years.””
“Household paperwork is not the same as managing an investment account.””
“It's a savings account, Denise.””
She folded her arms.
“And I'm telling you I didn't touch it.””
Her voice was confident.
Too confident.
Dad looked down at the statement.
“Three transfers. One for eight thousand dollars. Another for ten thousand.
The last for ten thousand. All made within six weeks.””
I felt cold all over.
“When?””
He checked the page.
“Between February and March.””
February.
That was when I'd been working extra shifts to save money for the deposit on my dorm room.
I'd come home exhausted one evening and found Denise at the kitchen table with a stack of envelopes.
She'd asked whether Dad kept his financial documents in the filing cabinet.
I'd said I didn't know.
She'd smiled and told me I should learn more about household finances.
At the time, I'd thought she was trying to be helpful.
Now I wondered what she'd been doing at that table.
Dad moved toward the front door.
“Inside. All of us.””
Nobody argued.
Inside, the house smelled of roasted chicken and lemon cleaner. Denise had prepared dinner before leaving to collect Jordan's graduation party decorations, and the dining table was still set with her favorite white plates.
Dad placed the bank statement in the center.
“Sit down.””
Jordan dropped into a chair.
Denise remained standing.
“I don't appreciate being interrogated in my own home.””
Dad pulled out the chair opposite him.
“Then perhaps you can explain why my daughter's future has been put at risk.””
“I didn't do anything!””
“Sit down, Denise.””
She stared at him for several seconds before lowering herself into the chair.
I sat beside Dad, my fingers wrapped around the car keys.
He noticed my shaking hands and placed his palm over mine.
“I'm sorry, Maya.””
That nearly broke me.
“It's not your fault,” I whispered.
“I should have checked the account more often.””
“You trusted her.””
His face tightened.
“Yes. I did.””
Denise made a sharp sound.
“Oh, wonderful. So now I'm a criminal because the bank can't explain its own paperwork?””
Dad opened his phone.
“I called the bank back before I left work. They sent me copies of the transfer records.””
He slid several printed pages across the table.
“The money went into another account.””
Denise didn't touch the papers.
“Whose account?”” I asked.
Dad looked at the first page.
“The receiving account is registered under a name I recognize.””
He turned the paper toward us.
Jordan leaned forward.
Then he abruptly sat back.
I saw the name.
Jordan Bennett.
My stepbrother's full name.
For several seconds, the room was so quiet I could hear the refrigerator humming in the kitchen.
I turned toward Jordan.
“Why was my college money transferred into your account?””
He stared at the table.
“I don't know.””
“Don't know?”” I repeated.
“Maybe Mom used my account for something.””
Denise's chair scraped against the floor.
“Jordan, don't answer questions you don't understand.””
Dad's head snapped toward her.
“Why not?””
“Because you're putting words in his mouth!””
“Then let him speak for himself.””
Jordan rubbed the back of his neck.
“I didn't know it was Maya's money.””
I felt something inside me crack.
“You didn't notice twenty-eight thousand dollars appearing in your account?””
His face flushed.
“I didn't say it appeared all at once.””
“Then how did it happen?””
He looked at his mother.
She stared back at him with an expression I had seen before whenever he was about to disappoint her.
A warning.
Jordan swallowed.
“Mom said she was helping me.””
“Helping you do what?”” Dad asked.
“Get established.””
“Established where?””
Jordan shifted in his seat.
“I was looking at a car.””
I stared at him.
The white sedan outside suddenly seemed different.
Dad leaned forward.
“What car?””
Jordan's voice dropped.
“The one outside.””
I stopped breathing.
Dad slowly turned toward Denise.
“You bought that car with Maya's college money?””
“No!”” she snapped.
“That's not what happened.””
“Then explain it.””
“The car was purchased with money I had set aside for Jordan.””
Dad didn't blink.
“From where?””
“My savings.””
He held out his hand.
“Show me.””
She laughed sharply.
“You cannot demand access to my personal finances!””
“I'm not asking for your personal finances. I'm asking you to account for money that left my daughter's education account and ended up with your son.””
“Those transfers were temporary!””
The words escaped before she could stop them.
Everyone froze.
Dad's expression changed.
“Temporary?””
Denise pressed her lips together.
I leaned forward.
“You just said you didn't touch the account.””
“I said I didn't steal anything!””
“Then why did you call the transfers temporary?””
“Because your father is twisting my words!””
Dad stood.
“Where is the money now?””
Denise stood too.
“I moved it because Jordan needed help. He was struggling, and I didn't want him to fall behind in life while you poured every spare dollar into Maya's future.””
My mouth fell open.
“He wasn't struggling! He quit college!””
“Because he was unhappy!””
“I worked to earn my scholarship!””
“And you were already getting a scholarship!”” she shouted.
“You didn't need every penny your father could give you!””
Dad's hand struck the table.
The plates rattled.
“Enough!””
Denise flinched.
Dad rarely raised his voice. When he did, even Jordan went silent.
“My daughter worked every day after school. She earned her grades. She saved her own money. I promised to help her attend college, and you took money from that account without my permission.””
“I was protecting my son!””
“You were stealing from my daughter.””
Denise's eyes filled with angry tears.
“After everything I've done for this family, you choose her over me?””
Dad stared at her.
“This isn't a competition.””
“It always has been!”” she cried.
“Everything is Maya, Maya, Maya. Her grades. Her scholarships.
Her precious dead mother. You spend your entire life trying to make sure that girl never feels a moment of disappointment!””
I felt as though the air had been punched from my lungs.
Dad's face turned rigid.
“Do not bring Elena into this.””
“Why not? You never stopped living in her shadow!””
For a moment, Dad looked like a man who had been struck somewhere deep inside.
Then he gathered the bank statements into a neat stack.
“You have until tomorrow morning to provide the full records of every transfer and show me where the money went.””
Denise wiped her cheeks.
“And if I don't?””
“Then I'll let the bank and the authorities determine what happened.””
She stared at him.
“You wouldn't dare.””
“Try me.””
Jordan abruptly stood.
“This is insane! I didn't steal anything!””
Dad looked at him.
“Then you should be willing to cooperate.””
“I'm not giving you access to my bank account!””
“You don't have to give me anything. The bank records already show where the money went.””
Jordan's face drained of color.
Denise grabbed his wrist.
“Come upstairs.””
“Mom—”
“Now.””
She pulled him toward the staircase.
Before disappearing around the corner, Jordan looked back at me.
His expression wasn't angry anymore.
It was frightened.
I sat motionless while Dad collected the papers.
“Is the car really mine?”” I whispered.
He looked at me as though the question hurt more than anything Denise had said.
“Yes, sweetheart.””
“Even after all this?””
“Especially after all this.””
I stared at the keys.
“I don't care about the car anymore. I just want to go to college.””
Dad crouched beside my chair.
“And you will.””
“What if the money is gone?””
He took both my hands.
“Then we'll find another way.””
“But you worked so hard.””
“So did you.””
My eyes burned.
“I don't want you to have to work yourself to death because of me.””
Dad shook his head.
“You are not a burden, Maya. You never have been.””
I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around him.
For a moment, I was nine years old again, crying into his shirt after my mother's funeral.
He held me until my breathing steadied.
Then his phone buzzed.
He glanced at the screen.
A message from the bank.
His expression changed as he read it.
“Dad?””
He didn't answer immediately.
He enlarged an attachment and studied the details.
“What is it?””
He looked at me.
“The bank found the original transfer authorization.””
My heart began pounding.
“Does it say who approved it?””
Dad turned the phone toward himself again.
“Yes.””
May you like
He swallowed.
“And Maya, the signature on the authorization isn't mine.””
