Chapter 3: The Secret My Father Never Told Me
Dad let the phone ring four times before answering.
I stood beside him, my hands wrapped around the sleeves of my sweater, watching his face.
"Hello, Richard.""
A man's voice crackled through the speaker.
"Michael. We need to talk.""
Dad glanced at the television, where the frozen image of his brother remained on the screen.
"That's interesting," he replied.
"I was just watching a video of you walking through my house.""
Silence.
Then Richard laughed.
It was a short, uncomfortable laugh, the kind adults used when they wanted to pretend nothing was wrong.
"You've got cameras now?""
"Apparently, I needed them.""
"Look, I can explain.""
"Start with why you were in my bedroom.""
Another pause.
"I stopped by to see Melissa.""
"While I was at work?""
"You know how things are. We didn't want to bother you.""
Dad's expression turned cold.
"You haven't visited me in six years, Richard. You haven't called on my birthday. You didn't come to Mom's funeral. And now you're casually visiting my bedroom?""
"I said I can explain.""
"Then explain.""
Richard sighed.
"Not over the phone.""
Dad looked toward the front door.
"Fine. Come back here.""
"No.""
The answer was immediate.
Dad's fingers tightened around the phone.
"Why not?""
"Because Melissa told me you've been acting strange lately. She said you're suspicious of everyone.""
Dad gave a humorless laugh.
"Did she also tell you she accused my nine-year-old daughter of stealing seven hundred dollars and slapped her across the face?""
The line went silent.
For several seconds, neither man spoke.
Then Richard said, "What?""
I stared at the phone.
That sounded genuine.
But when Dad replayed the recording of Richard leaving the bedroom, his expression changed again.
"Richard, what were you carrying when you came out of that room?""
"I don't remember.""
"A small black object.""
"I don't know what you're talking about.""
"Then perhaps you'll remember when the police ask you.""
Dad ended the call.
My heart started pounding.
"Are you calling the police, Daddy?""
He crouched in front of me.
"I might have to, sweetheart.""
"Will Uncle Richard go to jail?""
"I don't know.""
"Did he steal Melissa's money?""
Dad hesitated.
That hesitation frightened me.
"I don't know that, either.""
I looked down at the floor, where my notebooks still lay scattered from Melissa's search.
"She said I had to leave.""
Dad pulled me into his arms.
"You're not going anywhere.""
I buried my face against his shoulder.
For two years, I had tried to be the perfect daughter. I washed my own dishes, folded my clothes, and stayed quiet when Melissa complained about the sound of my footsteps.
I thought if I made myself easy enough to love, she might eventually love me.
But that afternoon, I finally understood that some people could be given everything and still choose to hurt a child.
Dad held me until my breathing slowed.
Then he stood and began searching through his desk drawers.
"What are you looking for?"" I asked.
"Something I should have dealt with a long time ago.""
He pulled out a thick folder tied with a faded blue ribbon.
Inside were old photographs, bank statements, and several letters with my uncle's name written across the envelopes.
Dad sat at the dining table and spread them out.
"Before you were born, Richard and I ran a small construction company together," he explained.
"Our father left us some money when he died. I invested mine in the business. Richard managed most of the accounts.""
"What happened?""
"He borrowed money without telling me. When I found out, he blamed me for the company's debts. We argued, and he disappeared.""
"Why didn't you tell me?""
Dad rubbed his forehead.
"Because I wanted you to remember your family as something good.""
He opened another envelope.
Inside was a photocopy of a bank transfer.
The amount was $7,000.
The date was six years earlier.
Dad stared at it.
"That's strange.""
"What?""
"This account was supposed to be closed.""
He pulled out another statement, then another.
The documents showed several transfers made over the previous months. Some were small. Others were large enough to make Dad sit back in his chair.
Every transfer had been authorized using information connected to his old business account.
And one of the names attached to a recent transaction was Melissa's.
I didn't understand the numbers, but I understood my father's expression.
He looked as if he had just discovered a door in his house that opened into a room he had never known existed.
"Was Melissa stealing from you?"" I asked.
"I don't want to jump to conclusions.""
"But she blamed me.""
Dad looked at the red mark on my cheek.
"Yes," he said quietly.
"She did.""
He gathered the statements and placed them inside the folder.
Then he took out his phone and called his bank.
While he spoke, I wandered into the living room and sat on the sofa. Through the window, I could see Melissa's car still parked across the street.
She hadn't gone far.
She was sitting behind the steering wheel, staring at our house.
When she noticed me watching, she lifted her phone and began typing.
A second later, Dad's phone buzzed on the dining table.
He returned from the hallway and read the message.
His face tightened.
"What is it?"" I asked.
He showed me the screen.
The message was from Melissa.
Michael, don't trust what you saw. Richard came because he was trying to help me. If you keep digging, you'll destroy this family.
Dad stared at the words.
Then another message appeared.
And Sophia knows more than she's telling you.
I shook my head immediately.
"I don't know anything!""
Dad put his phone away.
"I believe you.""
He said it without hesitation this time.
Then he walked to the window and watched Melissa's car pull away from the curb.
For a moment, I thought the worst was over.
But Dad returned to the table and opened the security footage again. He replayed the moment Richard entered the bedroom, then slowed the recording until the image became grainy and blurred.
Something caught his attention.
Richard hadn't simply walked into the room.
Before entering, he had slipped a folded piece of paper beneath the door.
Melissa picked it up from inside.
She read it.
Then she looked directly toward the camera.
Her lips moved.
Dad turned up the volume, but the recording was too faint to understand what she had said.
He leaned closer.
Then he paused the video and enlarged the paper still visible between Richard's fingers.
There were only four words written on it.
*Find the girl's inheritance documents.*
Dad went completely still.
I looked from the screen to his face.
"Daddy, what does that mean?""
He closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, they were filled with a fear I had never seen before.
"Your mother," he whispered, "left you something before she died.""
I stared at him.
"What did she leave me?""
Dad looked at the security footage one more time.
Then he opened the folder and pulled out a document bearing my mother's signature.
"Something that apparently makes you the most valuable person in this house.""
May you like
And as he turned the page toward me, I saw a number that made no sense to a nine-year-old girl.
*$2.4 million.*
