Chapter 6: Every Dollar Had a Destination
The first thing I noticed was the date.
Eight years earlier.
The second thing I noticed was the balance.
$23,600.
The third thing I noticed was that the page contained a list of withdrawals, each with a date, an amount, and a handwritten note beside it.
Some notes were ordinary.
School expenses.
Medical bills.
Household emergency.
Others were not.
Y. Carter personal.
Transfer to reserve.
Repayment.
I stared at the last word.
Repayment.
"What does that mean?"" I asked.
Tiana sat beside me, her hands clasped so tightly that her fingertips had turned white.
"I don't know.""
"Don't say that unless you mean it.""
"I mean it, Malik. I swear.""
I pulled the papers into a neat stack and began sorting them by date.
The earliest statement showed the account balance at $23,600. The next showed $22,150. Then $19,870. Then $17,400.
The money had been disappearing in pieces.
Sometimes $200.
Sometimes $750.
Once, a withdrawal of $3,200.
I ran my finger down the page.
"Look at this.""
Tiana leaned closer.
The $3,200 withdrawal was dated three years earlier. Beside it, Yolanda had written a note in blue ink.
Vehicle and family expenses.
"Wasn't that the year Mom bought her SUV?"" Tiana asked.
I looked at her.
"You remember that?""
"Of course. She said she'd saved for it for months.""
I turned the page.
There was another withdrawal, this one for $1,850.
The note read:
Credit account settlement.
Then another.
$2,400.
Emergency household reserve.
Another.
$1,200.
School-related costs.
I looked at Tiana.
"Did you ever see receipts for any of these?""
She shook her head.
"Mom kept saying the account was complicated and Dad was handling it.""
"Did Dad know about the withdrawals?""
"Maybe some of them.""
I felt anger rising again.
"How can nobody know where twenty-three thousand dollars went?""
Tiana looked down.
"Because nobody asked enough questions.""
I wanted to tell her that wasn't an answer.
But it was the closest thing to the truth we'd heard all day.
I opened the envelope again.
Beneath the statements was a photocopy of my birth certificate, an old insurance document, and a form with two signatures at the bottom.
One belonged to Dad.
The other belonged to Yolanda.
Neither was mine.
The form authorized an adult to manage the account. It also contained language about the beneficiary's future access to the funds.
I didn't understand every line, but I understood enough to know the account had been created for me.
"Why would she keep all this?"" I asked.
Tiana shrugged.
"Maybe she wanted records.""
"Then why tell you to destroy them?""
She had no answer.
I reached for my phone.
"I'm taking pictures of everything.""
Tiana nodded.
"Send them to me, too.""
I looked at her.
"Why?""
"So if Mom takes the originals, we still have copies.""
For the first time since this started, I felt like my stepsister was thinking about how to protect me rather than how to protect herself.
We photographed every page.
I made sure the dates were visible, along with the account balance, the withdrawal amounts, and the handwritten notes. Then I sent copies to an email address I used only for school documents.
Tiana watched me.
"Are you going to show Dad?""
"Yes.""
"What if he gets angry?""
"At me?""
"At Mom. At himself. At all of this.""
I placed my phone on the desk.
"Then he gets angry. I'm done hiding things to make everybody comfortable.""
Tiana nodded slowly.
A knock sounded at the door.
Both of us jumped.
"Malik?"" Dad called.
"Can I come in?""
I looked at Tiana.
She gathered the papers and placed them back in the envelope.
"Come in," I said.
Dad entered, still wearing his work clothes. His eyes moved from the envelope to our faces.
"What's going on?""
Tiana stood.
"I found something in Mom's room.""
Dad's expression hardened.
"Where did you get that?""
"She told me to destroy it.""
He stared at the envelope.
"She told you to do what?""
"Destroy it. She said it was old paperwork and nobody needed it anymore.""
Dad reached for the envelope.
I held it out.
He opened it and began examining the statements.
At first, his expression was unreadable.
Then he reached the page showing the original balance.
His fingers stopped.
"Twenty-three thousand six hundred dollars," he murmured.
I watched his face.
"Did you know it was that much?""
He shook his head.
"No.""
"Did you know about these withdrawals?""
He studied the first few pages.
"Some of them. Not all.""
"How many did you approve?""
Dad pulled out a chair and sat down.
"I remember approving money for your medical expenses when you were younger. There were bills after your mother died. I thought the account had enough to cover those without touching the principal too much.""
"But this shows thousands of dollars going out.""
"I know.""
"Did you ask where it went?""
"Yes.""
"And what did she say?""
"She said she was keeping track of everything.""
I leaned against the desk.
"And you believed her.""
Dad looked up at me.
"Yes.""
There was no excuse in his voice.
No attempt to make it sound reasonable.
Just the truth.
I sat on the edge of my bed.
"How much money is left?""
Dad looked through the statements again.
"The last one I can find shows a balance of $8,760.""
I did the math in my head.
More than fourteen thousand dollars had disappeared from the original balance.
And that statement was dated eighteen months earlier.
"That's not all," Tiana said.
She pulled another sheet from the envelope.
It was a more recent statement, dated six months ago.
The balance was $2,180.
Dad stared at it.
His face went completely still.
"Where did this come from?""
"Same envelope," Tiana said.
He looked at the withdrawal list again.
There were more entries, several of them transfers to an account whose last four digits were unfamiliar to me.
One transfer stood out.
$4,500.
The handwritten note beside it read:
Temporary transfer — repay before review.
I pointed at the note.
"What review?""
Dad leaned closer.
"I don't know.""
"Whose account was it transferred to?""
"I can't tell from this page.""
I grabbed my phone and photographed the transfer.
Then I opened the bank's contact information.
"We need to ask Mr. Price about this.""
Dad nodded.
"Tomorrow morning.""
"No. We can call now.""
"It's after five. The department may be closed.""
"Then we'll call as soon as it opens.""
He didn't argue.
That frightened me more than if he had.
Dad looked down at the papers.
"I need to talk to Yolanda.""
"About what?"" I asked.
"About these withdrawals.""
"She'll just say it was for the household.""
"Then I'll ask her to explain every one.""
"And if she can't?""
He met my eyes.
"Then we'll have to decide what comes next.""
Tiana stood near the door.
"There's something else.""
Dad looked at her.
"What?""
She swallowed.
"Mom told me she was going to transfer the remaining money before Malik's birthday.""
Dad frowned.
"What remaining money?""
"The money in the account. She said it needed to be moved before he turned seventeen.""
I looked at my father.
"Why seventeen?""
"I don't know.""
"Does the account say anything about that?""
He searched through the papers, turning pages until he found a document with a paragraph highlighted in yellow.
He read it silently.
Then he read it again.
"What?"" I demanded.
Dad rubbed his forehead.
"This document says the custodial arrangement is subject to the terms of the original account and applicable state law. It doesn't say anything here about seventeen.""
"So she made that up?""
"Maybe she misunderstood something.""
"Or maybe she was trying to move the money before I could ask for it.""
Dad didn't answer.
I thought about the transfer of $4,500.
The strange signature.
The account balance dropping from $23,600 to $2,180.
And the way Yolanda had looked at me when I told her I'd been to the bank.
"What if the remaining money is already gone?"" I asked.
Dad lowered the statement.
"Then we'll find out where it went.""
I wanted to believe that.
But the documents suggested Yolanda had spent years moving money around without telling us exactly what she was doing.
There was no reason to assume she had stopped.
At 7:20 p.m., we sat down for dinner.
Nobody had cooked anything elaborate. Dad heated leftover chicken, and Tiana put rice in the microwave. Yolanda emerged from the bedroom wearing a clean blouse, her hair brushed neatly, as if she were preparing to attend a meeting rather than explain thousands of dollars in missing funds.
She took one look at the papers on the table.
"Where did those come from?""
Dad didn't look up.
"Your daughter found them.""
Yolanda turned to Tiana.
"You went through my things?""
"You told me to destroy the folder," Tiana replied.
"I told you to get rid of old paperwork.""
"You said nobody needed to see it.""
Yolanda's face reddened.
"Because nobody did!""
Dad placed his fork down.
"Sit.""
She stared at him.
"Excuse me?""
"Sit down, Yolanda. We need to talk.""
"I have nothing to discuss with you in front of the children.""
"Then you should have thought about that before putting Malik's money into accounts we can't identify.""
Her expression shifted.
It was quick, but I saw it.
She wasn't surprised by the accusation.
She was surprised that we had proof.
"I don't know what you're talking about.""
Dad slid the statement across the table.
"Then explain this $4,500 transfer.""
Yolanda glanced at the page.
"It's old.""
"It's six months old.""
"It was temporary.""
"Temporary for what?""
She looked toward me.
"Why are you doing this, Malik? Why are you trying to tear this family apart?""
I placed my fork down.
"I'm not the one who took the money.""
"You have no idea what it costs to keep this house running.""
"Then show us the bills.""
She blinked.
"What?""
"Show us the bills you paid with my money. Every receipt. Every statement. Every dollar.""
Her mouth opened.
Dad leaned forward.
"That's a fair request.""
Yolanda pushed her chair back.
"I am not going to sit here while the two of you interrogate me like some criminal.""
"Nobody called you a criminal," Dad said.
"We're asking where the money went.""
She pointed at him.
"You agreed to let me manage the account.""
"I agreed to let you manage it for Malik. I did not agree to let you use it however you wanted.""
"I did what I had to do!""
The words came out so sharply that Tiana dropped her fork.
For a moment, the entire table froze.
Yolanda looked around at our faces.
Then she took a breath and lowered her voice.
"I made mistakes. I never denied that. But I kept this family together when you were barely holding yourself together, Reggie.
I paid bills. I bought groceries. I made sure Malik had a home.""
Dad's eyes hardened.
"At what cost?""
She didn't answer.
I stood.
"You keep saying you fed me. You keep telling me I should be grateful. But my mother left money so I wouldn't have to struggle, and you took it.""
Yolanda looked directly at me.
"Your mother left money because she knew your father wasn't good with finances.""
Dad went pale.
"Don't.""
"She knew it! She told me herself before she died that Reggie needed help managing things.""
I looked at my father.
He was staring at Yolanda as if she had struck him.
"Danielle never said that," he whispered.
Yolanda's confidence faltered.
"She—"
"You never met Danielle before she died," Dad said.
The words landed like a slammed door.
Yolanda went silent.
I turned toward her.
"What?""
Dad rose slowly.
"Yolanda and I didn't meet until nearly a year after your mother passed away.""
My stomach twisted.
"Then how did she know what Mom wanted?""
Dad looked at me.
"She didn't.""
Yolanda grabbed her purse.
"This conversation is over.""
She started toward the hallway, but Dad spoke before she reached the door.
"Where did the $4,500 go?""
She stopped.
For several seconds, she didn't move.
Then she turned around.
Her face had lost its practiced calm.
"I used it to pay a debt.""
"What debt?"" Dad asked.
She looked at him, then at me.
And finally, she said, "A debt your son doesn't know exists.""
I felt the room tilt.
"What debt?""
Yolanda's fingers tightened around the strap of her purse.
"Ask your father about the money he borrowed before you were born.""
Dad's face drained of color.
Then she walked out of the kitchen, leaving the three of us staring at the bank statements.
For the first time, I wondered whether my stepmother had stolen my inheritance to cover her own secrets—or to protect my father's.
And as I looked down at the $4,500 transfer, I noticed something I'd missed before.
The destination account belonged to a company.
A company whose name I recognized from a letter my father had hidden in the same envelope.
*Carter Family Holdings.*
I picked up the letter and unfolded it.
May you like
At the bottom, beneath the company name, was a date.
The date was two months before my mother died.
