Chapter 2: The Money That Disappeared
Dad carried the photograph and the bank statement into the kitchen.
Maya followed him, still holding the broken bicycle basket.
I stayed close behind.
The house smelled of roasted chicken and laundry detergent. Everything looked ordinary, which somehow made the discovery feel even stranger.
Dad placed the documents on the kitchen table.
“Stay here,” he told us.
He disappeared into his bedroom.
Maya sat beside me.
“Do you think Mom saved that money for my bicycle?””
“Maybe.””
“Then why did Dad have to work so much?””
I didn't know how to answer.
For weeks before Maya's birthday, Dad had been taking extra shifts at the warehouse. He came home with aching shoulders and dark circles beneath his eyes.
He had skipped meals with us, saying he wasn't hungry.
He had even postponed repairing his old car.
All because he wanted Maya to have the exact pink bicycle she'd pointed out in a store catalog.
A few minutes later, Dad returned carrying a thick folder.
He sat down and opened it.
Inside were old bank statements, insurance documents, and several envelopes.
“I found these when I was cleaning out your mother's things,” he said.
“Why didn't you tell us?”” I asked.
“Because I didn't know what I was looking at.””
He pulled out a document dated shortly after Mom's death.
It was a statement showing the balance of the savings account.
Zero.
Another document showed a withdrawal of nearly eighteen thousand dollars.
Dad shook his head.
“I thought your mother had transferred the money before she passed. I assumed it had gone into another account.””
“Didn't you ask the bank?”” I said.
“I did. They told me the account had been closed by an authorized family representative.””
“Who?””
Dad didn't answer immediately.
He turned the paper around.
The signature at the bottom belonged to Brielle's mother.
Denise.
Our stepmother.
I stared at the name.
Denise had been married to Dad for two years. She had moved into our house with Brielle shortly after their wedding.
She was always polite when Dad was around.
She remembered his coffee order, ironed his work shirts, and called Maya sweetheart whenever relatives visited.
But when Dad left for work, her behavior changed.
She complained about the grocery bills.
She told Maya to stop asking for things.
She frequently reminded me that we were living in a house that now belonged to a new family.
I'd assumed she was simply difficult.
Now I wasn't so sure.
“Maybe it was a mistake,” Maya said.
Dad looked at her.
“I hope it was.””
He reached for his phone.
“I'll call the bank tomorrow.””
A voice came from the doorway.
“Call them about what?””
Denise stood there holding a dish towel.
Her eyes moved toward the documents.
For a moment, her face went blank.
Then she smiled.
“What are all these papers?””
Dad didn't smile back.
“Do you remember Maya's savings account?””
Denise put the towel down.
“Of course.””
“Did you close it?””
She looked at him.
Then she glanced at the signature.
“Why are you asking me that?””
“Because your signature is on the withdrawal authorization.””
Denise pulled out a chair.
“Oh, that old account.””
Dad's voice hardened.
“What happened to the money?””
She sighed as if he were inconveniencing her.
“I handled it.””
“You handled it?””
“It was sitting there doing nothing. We had expenses. You were struggling financially after your first wife's death, and I thought moving the money would help.””
I stared at her.
“That money belonged to Maya.””
Denise turned toward me.
“Don't interrupt adult conversations.””
“I'm talking about my sister's money.””
Dad raised one hand.
“Let her finish.””
Denise leaned back.
“I used some of it for household expenses. The rest went toward things the family needed.””
“What things?”” Dad asked.
“Bills. Repairs. School expenses.””
“Whose school expenses?””
She hesitated.
“Both girls.””
“Brielle's too?””
Denise's silence lasted only a second.
But it was enough.
Dad stood up.
“How much went to Brielle?””
Denise's expression hardened.
“Are you seriously going to interrogate me over money from years ago?””
“It's Maya's money.””
“She was a child! She didn't need eighteen thousand dollars sitting in a bank account!””
Maya shrank into her chair.
I reached beneath the table and held her hand.
Dad looked at Denise.
“Did you have permission to withdraw it?””
Denise folded her arms.
“I was your wife. I was helping you.””
“That isn't what I asked.””
She looked toward the hallway.
“Brielle needed things too. You can't expect me to prioritize one child over another.””
Dad's voice dropped.
“You stole from a little girl to pay for things she never received.””
Denise stood so quickly that her chair scraped backward.
“I did not steal anything.””
“Then show me where the money went.””
“I don't have to justify every financial decision I've made.””
“You do when it involves my daughter's savings.””
Denise grabbed the dish towel.
“Fine. Ask the bank. I have nothing to hide.””
She walked away.
But as she passed the kitchen doorway, I noticed something.
Her hands were shaking.
Dad sat back down.
He rubbed his forehead.
“I should have checked this years ago.””
Maya looked at him.
“Does that mean I won't get another bicycle?””
Dad turned toward her.
For a moment, he couldn't speak.
Then he knelt beside her chair.
“You're getting another bicycle.””
“But you already spent so much.””
“Listen to me. Your birthday present was never supposed to become a reason for you to feel guilty.””
Maya nodded.
Dad kissed her forehead.
That night, after Maya went to bed, I heard Dad on the phone in his office.
His voice was low.
“I need every transaction associated with that account.””
A pause.
“No, I don't want an explanation from my wife. I want the records.””
Another pause.
Then he said something that made me stop outside the door.
“Wait. You're telling me the account wasn't closed?””
I moved closer.
Dad was staring at his laptop.
“What do you mean the money was transferred into another account?””
He listened.
Then his face drained of color.
“Whose account?””
The person on the other end answered.
Dad slowly sat down.
May you like
And then he whispered a name.
“Brielle?””
