Chapter 2: The Signature My Father Never Wrote
Vanessa crossed the kitchen so quickly that her expensive handbag struck the edge of the counter.
“Move away from the computer.””
I stayed in my chair.
“Why is there a withdrawal form with my name on it?””
“It's an administrative matter.””
“Then why does it say Dad signed it?””
Her jaw tightened.
“Your father and I have discussed your future.””
“No, you haven't. He hasn't even called me about school.””
She reached past me and clicked the browser closed.
“That's enough.””
I stood up.
“Are you sending me away?””
Vanessa's expression softened so suddenly that it frightened me more than her anger.
“Emily, sweetheart, you're exhausted. You've been struggling to adjust to our family, and perhaps a structured environment would help you.””
“A boarding school?””
“It's a wonderful institution.””
“It's four hundred miles away!””
“Lower your voice. Noah is sleeping.””
I stared at her.
She had just revealed that she was planning to send me away, and she was worried about the volume of my voice.
“Dad would never agree to this.””
“He already has.””
“Then I'll call him.””
I reached for the cordless phone.
Vanessa took it off the counter before I could touch it.
“No.””
“Give it back!””
Her eyes hardened.
“Do not ever raise your voice at me again.””
For a moment, neither of us moved.
Then Noah appeared in the doorway, dragging his stuffed rabbit behind him.
“Mommy?””
Vanessa immediately changed her expression.
“What is it, darling?””
“I want apple juice.””
“Of course you do.””
She handed him a juice box from the refrigerator and stroked his hair.
“Go watch your cartoons. Mommy needs to talk to Emily.””
Noah looked at me.
“Are you coming to watch?””
“In a minute, buddy.””
He shuffled away.
Vanessa waited until he was gone before turning back to me.
“You're making this much harder than it needs to be.””
“Then tell me the truth.””
She picked up her handbag and began checking its contents.
“Your father is under enormous pressure at work. He doesn't need you creating problems.””
“I'm not creating anything. I'm trying to go to school.””
“School isn't the only way to prepare for adulthood.””
“I'm sixteen!””
“And you're old enough to understand that families make sacrifices.””
I looked at the shopping bags she had abandoned beside the refrigerator. Designer shoes. A silk blouse. A bottle of perfume still wrapped in tissue paper.
“How many sacrifices did you make today?”” I asked.
“Because you bought all of that while I stayed home and watched your son.””
Her hand stopped inside the handbag.
“Be very careful, Emily.””
“I'm tired of being careful.””
The words escaped before I could stop them.
Vanessa stared at me as though I'd slapped her.
Then she smiled.
It wasn't a kind smile.
“Fine. You want to know why you're staying home? Because somebody has to take care of Noah.
Because your father is never here. Because this family cannot function around your school schedule.””
“My school schedule is normal. I'm supposed to be there every weekday.””
“And I'm supposed to be able to leave my house without arranging childcare!””
“Then hire a babysitter!””
Her hand struck the counter.
“We cannot afford everything, Emily!””
I flinched.
She saw it and lowered her voice.
“Do you know how expensive this house is? The cars? The bills?
Your father's business has been having difficulties. If you truly cared about him, you'd stop making demands.””
I thought of Dad's last birthday gift to me: a secondhand telescope he'd spent an entire Saturday repairing because he knew I loved astronomy.
He'd told me that money was tight that month, but he'd never made me feel guilty for needing school supplies.
“I don't believe you,” I said.
Vanessa's eyes narrowed.
“Then perhaps you'll believe this.””
She reached into her handbag and removed a folded document.
It was a photocopy of the boarding school application.
At the top, beneath my name, was a section labeled Parent or Guardian Authorization.
My father's signature appeared there, too.
But I knew my father's handwriting. I'd seen it on birthday cards, report cards, permission slips, and the notes he left beside my breakfast when he traveled.
This signature was wrong.
The capital M was too narrow. The final stroke in Carter curved in the opposite direction.
“That's not his handwriting,” I whispered.
Vanessa snatched the paper back.
“You're imagining things.””
“Someone copied his signature.””
“Enough!””
She folded the document and pushed it into her purse.
“You will not mention this to anyone. Not your teachers. Not your friends. And certainly not your father.””
“Why?””
“Because you don't understand what you're talking about.””
“Then explain it to me.””
She stepped closer.
“Your father trusts me. He trusts me to keep this family together. If you accuse me of something you can't prove, you may destroy the only home you have left.””
I felt my throat close.
She knew about my mother. She knew how terrified I was of losing another parent.
She used that fear like a key.
“Now,” she said, “go finish dinner.””
I didn't move.
Vanessa grabbed my wrist.
“Did you hear me?””
“Yes,” I whispered.
She released me with a disgusted look.
“Good. And if your father calls, you're going to tell him you've been feeling unwell. Nothing more.””
She left the kitchen.
I waited until I heard the television downstairs before returning to the computer.
My school account was still open in another browser window.
The withdrawal notice had disappeared, but the email notification remained.
I clicked it.
The system showed the date the application had been submitted: eleven days earlier.
Eleven days.
That meant Vanessa had begun arranging my removal from school before she'd even told me I was staying home permanently.
I opened the application history.
There was a contact email listed beneath the guardian information.
It wasn't Dad's business address.
It was an unfamiliar account with a man's name.
*Daniel Brooks.*
I had never heard that name before.
Then I noticed the phone number attached to the application.
I recognized the last four digits.
They belonged to the man who had called our house repeatedly whenever Dad was away. The man Vanessa always claimed was a real estate agent helping her find better deals on furniture.
I printed the application.
The printer whirred loudly enough that I froze, listening for footsteps.
Nothing.
I folded the pages and hid them inside my chemistry textbook.
Then I heard Vanessa speaking downstairs.
Her voice was low, but the house was quiet enough for certain words to carry.
“No, Daniel. The girl saw the application.””
A pause.
“No, she doesn't know about the money.””
Another pause.
“Michael is supposed to be gone until Friday.””
My fingers tightened around the textbook.
Vanessa laughed nervously.
“I told you I'd handle Emily. Once she's enrolled, nobody will question why she's not here.””
I leaned closer to the doorway.
Then she said the words that made my blood run cold.
“And by the time Michael finds out what we've done, it'll be too late.””
A floorboard creaked beneath my foot.
The conversation stopped.
“Who is there?”” Vanessa called.
I hurried back to the table and opened my chemistry book, pretending to study.
Her footsteps approached.
She appeared in the doorway, holding her phone.
“Emily, have you been listening to my conversation?””
“No.””
She studied my face.
For several seconds, I thought she might know.
Then her phone rang again.
She glanced at the screen and stepped away.
“Stay here,” she ordered.
“Don't touch the computer.””
I waited until her bedroom door closed.
Then I pulled out my own phone—the cheap backup she'd forgotten I kept hidden inside an old pencil case.
I called Dad's office.
His assistant, Margaret, answered.
“Carter Consulting. How may I help you?””
“This is Emily Carter. I need to speak to my dad.””
“Hi, sweetheart. Your father's out of town.””
“I know. But it's an emergency.””
Her voice changed.
“Is everything okay?””
I opened my mouth.
Before I could answer, a notification appeared on the computer.
The school had updated my enrollment status.
*Withdrawal approved. Effective immediately.*
My heart pounded.
Then another message arrived from the boarding school.
*Student arrival scheduled for tomorrow at 9:00 a.m. Transportation arrangements confirmed.*
I stared at the screen.
Someone had arranged to collect me from my own home.
May you like
And according to the final line, the person authorized to release me was not my father.
It was Daniel Brooks.
