Chapter 2
Dad stared at his phone so long that I could hear the refrigerator humming behind him.
Diane's face lost all its color.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
Dad didn't answer me.
He opened another screen.
Then another.
His jaw tightened.
“There were four transfers.”
Diane moved toward him.
“David, please.”
He held up one hand.
She stopped.
I had never seen my father look at her that way.
Not angry.
Worse.
Like he was suddenly looking at someone he didn't recognize.
He read the numbers aloud.
“Eight hundred dollars three weeks ago.”
My heart started pounding.
“David—”
“Six hundred and fifty the week before that.”
Trey shifted beside the counter.
Dad kept reading.
“One thousand two hundred.”
Then he looked directly at Diane.
“And yesterday, two thousand eight hundred.”
My knees nearly gave out.
The total wasn't just the money I thought I had lost.
She had apparently been taking it little by little before draining almost everything left.
“That can't be right,” I whispered.
Dad turned the phone toward me.
It was right.
Every transfer had gone to the same checking account.
Diane's.
I looked at her.
“How long?”
“Maya—”
“How long have you been stealing from me?”
“Don't use that word.”
“What word would you like me to use?”
Her expression hardened.
“I was going to replace it.”
“With what?”
She didn't answer.
Dad did.
“You told me your sister loaned us the money for Trey's attorney.”
Diane's lips parted.
Trey looked at her.
“Mom?”
Dad's voice stayed low.
“You told me Linda covered the bail because I said we weren't using Maya's education money.”
Diane suddenly looked furious.
Not ashamed.
Furious that she had been caught.
“I knew exactly what you were going to say.”
Dad blinked.
“So you lied.”
“I protected my son.”
“And what is Maya?”
Diane folded her arms.
“Don't make this dramatic.”
That sentence broke something inside me.
I had spent years trying not to be dramatic.
When Diane forgot my school concert but remembered Trey's basketball schedule, I stayed quiet.
When she told me we couldn't afford a new laptop for school and bought Trey a gaming console two days later, I stayed quiet.
When Trey wrecked Dad's old truck and somehow the whole family had to “make sacrifices,” I stopped asking for anything.
I thought keeping peace made me mature.
Now I understood it had only made me easier to take from.
Dad stepped closer to Diane.
“You had access to that account because I trusted you.”
“You put my name on the household finances.”
“Not so you could steal from my daughter.”
“There you go again.”
Diane laughed bitterly.
“Your daughter. Your daughter. Your daughter.”
I stared at her.
Dad did too.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means this whole house has revolved around Maya since I married you.”
I actually looked around the kitchen because I thought maybe another Maya had been living with us.
Trey snorted.
“Oh, come on.”
Dad turned toward him.
“Not one word.”
Trey immediately shut up.
Diane pointed at me.
“She gets good grades, so everyone acts like she's some saint. She works a little grocery job and suddenly her money is sacred. Meanwhile, my son is facing charges that could ruin his life.”
“Because he drove drunk,” I said.
Trey stepped forward.
“I said I made a mistake.”
“You could have killed somebody.”
“It didn't happen.”
“That doesn't make what you did okay.”
“Stop judging me!”
Dad slammed his phone onto the counter.
The sound made all three of us jump.
“Enough!”
Silence filled the room.
Then Dad pointed at Trey.
“You will not yell at her because she won't pretend your DUI wasn't serious.”
He turned to Diane.
“And you will not stand there and justify taking five thousand dollars from a seventeen-year-old because your twenty-four-year-old son didn't want to face consequences.”
Diane's eyes narrowed.
“Trey is your family too.”
“I have helped Trey for six years.”
Dad started counting on his fingers.
“I paid his car insurance.”
Trey looked away.
“I paid his phone bill.”
Another finger.
“I let him live here rent-free.”
Another.
“I paid off his credit card when he promised he had changed.”
Diane whispered, “David.”
“No.”
Dad's voice cracked.
“No more.”
Trey laughed nervously.
“So what? You're kicking me out over money?”
Dad looked at him.
“No. I'm kicking you out because every time someone saves you, you become more reckless.”
The room went completely still.
Trey stopped smiling.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“You can't be serious.”
“You have until tomorrow morning.”
Diane stepped between them.
“If Trey leaves, I leave.”
I looked at Dad.
For years that sentence would have ended every argument.
Diane knew it.
Dad hated conflict.
He hated being alone.
After my biological mother died when I was little, he had spent years trying to rebuild a family.
Diane had always used that fear.
If you don't support me, maybe this marriage isn't working.
If Maya keeps disrespecting me, perhaps Trey and I shouldn't stay.
If you don't trust me, what's the point?
Dad had always apologized first.
This time, he didn't.
He picked up his phone.
“All right.”
Diane blinked.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
Her mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
Dad turned to me.
“Maya, get your laptop.”
“Why?”
“We're going to the bank.”
Diane blocked the doorway.
“You're overreacting.”
Dad stared at her.
“Move.”
“You can't embarrass me like this.”
“Move, Diane.”
“David, listen to me.”
He leaned closer.
“You took money from my daughter's account after I specifically told you not to touch it. You lied about where Trey's bail money came from. And unless I'm misunderstanding these records, you didn't just take money yesterday.”
Her expression changed again.
Dad noticed.
So did I.
“What else?” he asked.
Diane shook her head.
“Nothing.”
Dad picked up his phone.
“Then you won't mind if the bank goes through every account you've had access to.”
Her hand shot out.
She grabbed his wrist.
“Don't.”
Everyone froze.
Dad slowly looked down at her fingers.
Then back at her face.
“What else did you do?”
She let go.
Nobody spoke.
Then Trey said something I wasn't expecting.
“Mom.”
Diane turned.
He was staring at her with real fear now.
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.”
“Mom.”
“I said nothing.”
But Trey knew her better than we did.
His face changed.
“You used his account too, didn't you?”
Dad's eyes snapped toward him.
“What account?”
Trey immediately regretted speaking.
I could see it.
Dad walked toward him.
“What account, Trey?”
Trey rubbed the back of his neck.
“I don't know.”
“You just said she used someone's account.”
“I was guessing.”
“Whose?”
Trey looked at Diane.
Diane shook her head once.
It was tiny.
But Dad saw it.
I saw it too.
“Trey.”
Dad's voice was barely above a whisper.
“Tell me.”
Trey swallowed.
Then he looked toward the stairs.
“My grandmother's.”
Dad went still.
My grandmother—Dad's mother—had died eight months earlier.
She had lived in assisted living before that.
Dad had managed most of her bills.
After she died, he had spent months closing accounts, paying medical balances, and handling paperwork.
Or at least he thought he had.
“What did you say?” he asked.
Trey looked terrified.
“I heard Mom talking about an old account.”
Diane snapped, “Shut up.”
Dad turned.
“No. Let him talk.”
“David, this is ridiculous.”
“Trey.”
Trey backed away from the counter.
“I don't know everything.”
“What do you know?”
“She said there was still money in one of your mom's accounts.”
My skin went cold.
Dad's face went white.
“How much money?”
“I don't know.”
“Did she move it?”
“I don't know.”
“Trey!”
“Maybe!”
Diane grabbed her purse from the kitchen chair.
“I'm done with this interrogation.”
Dad stepped in front of the doorway.
“You're not leaving with that purse.”
Her eyes flashed.
“You can't hold me here.”
“No. But that purse contains bank cards and financial documents that belong to this household.”
“They belong to me too.”
“Then put it down and leave.”
Diane clutched it tighter.
Dad looked at her for three long seconds.
Then he said, “Maya, call Grandma's bank.”
Diane lunged toward me.
Dad stepped between us.
“Don't touch her.”
“I wasn't touching her!”
“You were moving toward her.”
“This is insane!”
I grabbed my phone.
My hands were shaking so badly I nearly dropped it.
Then Dad's phone rang.
All of us stared at the screen.
The caller ID showed the name of my grandmother's bank.
Dad slowly answered.
“Hello?”
He listened.
His expression changed.
“Yes, this is David Bennett.”
Another pause.
“No. I didn't authorize that.”
Diane closed her eyes.
Dad stared at her.
May you like
Then he said the words that changed our entire family.
“How much is missing?”
