Chapter 4: The Second Document
The message was only twelve words long, but I read it so many times that the screen began to blur.
*STOP LOOKING INTO THIS IF YOU WANT YOUR FAMILY TO SURVIVE IT.*
My mother stood beside me outside the registrar's office, her beige handbag pressed against her ribs.
“Maya, show me that again.””
I handed her my phone.
She read the message once. Then again.
“Who sent this?””
“I don't know. It's an unknown number.””
“Call the police.””
“Mom, we don't even know what this means yet.””
“What does it need to mean?”” Her voice rose.
“Someone is threatening you because you're trying to find out who forged my signature!””
Several students walking past us glanced in our direction.
Mom lowered her voice, but her fingers trembled around my phone.
“Baby, I'm serious. I am not letting somebody scare you into silence.””
I looked down at Amari, sleeping peacefully against my chest. Her little fist rested beneath her chin, and a strand of black hair curled against her forehead.
“I won't let them,” I promised.
But the truth was that I was frightened.
Not of losing my graduation anymore.
I was frightened because someone had apparently known we were investigating the forged request before the university had even finished reviewing it. Someone had access to information we thought was private.
And whoever that person was, they knew exactly how to make my mother panic.
We entered the registrar's office together.
Ms. Collins was waiting near the conference room door. Her expression was serious, and a second staff member sat behind the table with a laptop open in front of him.
“Thank you for returning so quickly,” Ms. Collins said.
“I'm Daniel Brooks, the university's student records compliance officer.””
Mom immediately placed her identification on the table.
“Before we start, I want it documented that I did not submit the withdrawal request.””
Mr. Brooks nodded.
“We've documented your statement. Today, we want to discuss another document that appears to be connected to the original submission.””
He turned the laptop toward us.
On the screen was a scanned page with the university's letterhead.
My full name appeared at the top.
Below it was a statement claiming that I had voluntarily requested removal from the graduation ceremony because I was experiencing personal difficulties and intended to postpone my degree celebration.
I stared at the page.
“I never wrote this.””
“We understand,” Mr. Brooks replied.
Mom leaned forward.
“Who did?””
“That is what we're investigating.””
“Then why show us a document without telling us where it came from?”” she demanded.
“Because we need you to look at the signature and the wording. The document was submitted as supporting evidence for the original request.””
I read the final paragraph.
It stated that my mother had discussed the matter with me and that we had mutually agreed the graduation ceremony would be inappropriate.
My stomach turned.
“They used my name to make it look like I agreed.””
“That's correct,” Mr. Brooks said.
“At least, that's what the document appears designed to establish.””
Mom pointed at the bottom of the page.
“There's no signature from Maya.””
“There's a typed acknowledgment,” he explained.
“It was presented as a confirmation of her wishes.””
I shook my head.
“I've never seen this before.””
Mr. Brooks closed the document.
“Your academic eligibility remains intact while we review the matter. However, we need to determine whether the sender had any legitimate authority to submit these materials.””
“Could someone have used my student account?”” I asked.
“Our preliminary review has not established that. We are examining the submission records.””
I swallowed.
“Can you tell us when it was sent?””
He checked his notes.
“The supporting document arrived shortly after the initial withdrawal request.””
“From the same email address?””
“We're still verifying the connection.””
Mom sat back, breathing through her nose.
Then she asked the question I had been afraid to voice.
“Could this have come from someone in our family?””
Mr. Brooks folded his hands.
“We cannot identify the sender based on speculation. If you believe someone has impersonated you or Ms. Bennett, we encourage you to preserve all relevant messages and report any threats to the appropriate authorities.””
I thought about the unknown number.
“I received a threatening text six minutes after we filed our complaint.””
Both staff members looked at me.
I showed them the message.
Mr. Brooks took a moment to read it.
“Please save the original message. Don't delete it. If you feel physically unsafe, contact law enforcement.””
Mom's eyes filled with tears.
“This is happening because my daughter wants to graduate.””
Ms. Collins reached across the table.
“I know this is frightening, Mrs. Bennett. But Maya has completed her academic requirements. We will not treat an unverified request as proof that she wants to withdraw.””
Those words were the first thing anyone had said all morning that made my chest loosen.
“Does that mean I can walk?”” I asked.
“It means your eligibility has not been revoked,” she replied.
“We still need to finish the review, but you should continue preparing for commencement.””
I nodded.
For the first time in days, I could picture myself crossing the stage with Amari in my arms.
Then Mr. Brooks opened another file.
“This final item was included in the supporting materials,” he said.
“We need you to tell us whether you recognize it.””
A photograph appeared on the screen.
It showed my mother sitting at our kitchen table, holding a pen above a stack of papers.
I stopped breathing.
“That picture was taken at our apartment.””
Mom stared at it.
“When?””
“I don't know.””
She leaned closer.
The photograph had been taken from the other side of the kitchen, near the refrigerator. The date printed in the file information was several months old.
I remembered that afternoon.
Vanessa had visited us after claiming she wanted to help Mom organize some household documents. She had brought a folder, a pen, and several forms.
Mom had been exhausted after a double shift.
I had been studying in my bedroom while Amari slept in her bassinet.
Vanessa had said she wanted to take a picture of Mom signing a birthday card for a relative.
I had barely paid attention.
Now I could see the photograph clearly.
My mother wasn't signing a birthday card.
She was looking down at a document.
And Vanessa stood just outside the frame.
Mom pressed her hand against her mouth.
“Oh, my God.””
I turned toward her.
“Do you remember this?””
She nodded slowly.
“She brought papers that day. She said she needed my signature for some family insurance forms.””
“Did you sign them?””
“I signed one page. Maybe two. I don't remember exactly.””
Mr. Brooks immediately clarified that the photograph alone did not establish who submitted the withdrawal request or whether any signature had been copied from those papers.
But I barely heard him.
Because a horrible thought had taken shape in my mind.
What if Vanessa hadn't needed to forge my mother's signature from scratch?
What if she had been collecting it for months?
Mom stood abruptly.
“I want to go home.””
I reached for her hand.
“Mom—”
“I need to think.””
We left the conference room without another word.
In the hallway, she leaned against the wall and cried silently.
I had never seen my mother look so defeated.
“I'm sorry,” she whispered.
I frowned.
“For what?””
“For letting her into our home. For trusting her when she kept showing us who she was.””
I wrapped my free arm around her.
“You didn't do this.””
“But I gave her access to things she shouldn't have had.””
“You trusted your mother. That's not a crime.””
She pressed her face against my shoulder.
For several seconds, we stood together beneath the bright hallway lights while students walked past us carrying graduation gowns and bouquets.
Then Mom pulled away.
Her expression had changed.
“There's something I need to tell you,” she said.
“What?””
She looked toward the registrar's office, then back at me.
“Your grandmother didn't just ask me to sign papers that afternoon.””
My heart began pounding again.
“What else did she ask?””
Mom wiped her cheeks.
“She wanted to know whether I would ever let you take Amari and move away from the family.””
I stared at her.
“And what did you say?””
“I told her that you were an adult and that your decisions belonged to you.””
Mom's voice dropped to a whisper.
“Then she asked me what I would do if you stopped needing us altogether.””
Before I could answer, my phone vibrated.
Another message.
This one contained a photograph of our apartment building.
Beneath it were five words.
*YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED, MAYA.*
May you like
And this time, the message included a name.
Vanessa.
