Chapter 2: The Secret Brandon Knew
That night, I didn’t sleep.
I lay beneath my blanket with my mother’s photograph pressed against my chest.
Rain tapped against the window.
Downstairs, Victoria and Brandon were talking.
Their voices were muffled, but every few seconds I heard my name.
“Emma saw the statement,” Brandon said.
My heart stopped.
Victoria answered, “I know.””
“What if she tells Dad?””
“She won’t.””
“How do you know?””
A pause.
Then Victoria said, “Because I know exactly what to threaten her with.””
I sat up.
My fingers tightened around the photograph.
I wanted to hear more.
I quietly climbed out of bed and opened my bedroom door.
The hallway was dark.
I moved toward the stairs.
Then I heard Brandon again.
“She found the old envelope too.””
Victoria’s voice became sharper.
“What?””
“The one with the account information.””
“You're sure?””
“I saw it in her hand.””
A chair scraped against the floor.
“You idiot.””
“I didn’t know she was looking.””
“You were supposed to watch her.””
“I can’t watch her every second.””
“Apparently you can’t do anything correctly.””
I crouched behind the wall.
Then Brandon said something that made my blood run cold.
“What about Mom’s other account?””
Victoria went silent.
“What about it?””
“The account Dad doesn't know about.””
I stopped breathing.
“There’s no reason for her to know about that.””
“But if she starts asking questions—”
“She won't.””
“How can you be so sure?””
Victoria lowered her voice.
“Because Daniel has already signed the papers.””
My hand covered my mouth.
What papers?
I leaned closer.
“What papers?”” Brandon asked.
Victoria sighed.
“The guardianship documents.””
I froze.
“Daniel signed them months ago.””
Brandon laughed quietly.
“So?””
“So if Emma causes trouble, I can decide where she lives.””
My heart pounded.
I backed away from the staircase.
The floor creaked.
Silence.
“Did you hear that?”” Brandon asked.
I ran.
I slipped into my room and shut the door just before footsteps reached the stairs.
My heart hammered against my ribs.
A shadow stopped beneath my door.
“Emma?””
I said nothing.
The doorknob turned.
Locked.
“Emma, open the door.””
I stayed perfectly still.
Brandon knocked twice.
“You awake?””
I pulled the blanket over myself.
He waited.
Then walked away.
I didn't breathe until his footsteps disappeared.
The next morning, I woke before sunrise.
I had one thought.
I needed proof.
Not because I wanted to fight Victoria.
Because I needed Dad to believe me.
I found an old shoebox beneath my bed.
Inside were drawings, birthday cards, and letters my father had written when I was younger.
I opened one.
Emma, I know things are difficult after your mom died. But I promise you’ll always be safe. I’ll always protect you.
I pressed the paper to my chest.
Then I heard my father’s voice in my memory.
“I trust Victoria to take care of you.””
That was the problem.
He trusted her.
I needed something he couldn't dismiss.
Something she couldn't explain away.
At school, I barely listened.
During lunch, my best friend Lily noticed.
“You’re not eating,” she said.
“I’m not hungry.””
She looked at my untouched sandwich.
“You always eat.””
I forced a smile.
“I’m fine.””
“You look scared.””
“I’m not.””
“Emma.””
I looked around.
Nobody was listening.
I whispered, “If you knew an adult was stealing money from your family, what would you do?””
Lily frowned.
“Tell your dad.””
“I can't prove it.””
“Then get proof.””
“I’m trying.””
She reached across the table.
“My mom has a lawyer.””
“I don't need a lawyer.””
“Maybe not. But you need an adult who believes you.””
I stared at her.
For the first time in weeks, I felt something other than fear.
Hope.
That afternoon, I came home early because my teacher had canceled the last class.
The house was quiet.
Victoria wasn't home.
Neither was Brandon.
I went straight to her bedroom.
I had never entered it before.
The door was unlocked.
Her room smelled like expensive perfume and candles.
I searched carefully.
Drawers.
Closet.
Desk.
Nothing.
Then I noticed something strange.
A small wooden box was tucked behind a row of shoes.
I pulled it out.
Inside were envelopes.
Lots of them.
Bank letters.
Receipts.
Credit card statements.
And beneath them…
A second bankbook.
My hands shook as I opened it.
The account was in Victoria’s name.
But the deposits weren't from her.
They were from my father.
Month after month.
Thousands of dollars.
I flipped through the pages.
Then I saw a transaction labeled:
*Transfer — Family Trust*
I frowned.
Family trust?
I turned the page.
Another transfer.
Then another.
The total balance made my eyes widen.
There was enough money in that account to pay every household bill for years.
Enough to buy food.
Enough to replace my shoes.
Enough to make sure the electricity never got shut off again.
So why had she let me go hungry?
I grabbed my father’s old letters from my pocket.
Then I noticed a folded document underneath the bankbook.
I opened it.
My father’s signature was at the bottom.
My name appeared several times.
I read the first paragraph.
Then the second.
My hands went numb.
This wasn't a guardianship agreement.
It was something else.
Something that could explain why Victoria had been hiding everything.
I was still staring at the document when the bedroom door slammed shut.
I spun around.
Victoria stood there.
Her face was white.
She locked the door behind her.
May you like
Then she whispered,
“Put that paper down.””
