Chapter 6: The Birthday Gift Was Only the Beginning
I couldn't stop staring at Mom's signature.
It was unmistakably hers.
The same Nia Johnson who signed my school permission slips.
The same woman who wrote birthday cards and Christmas gift tags.
The same mother who had stood beside the Highlander that morning, smiling as though she had given me everything.
Now her signature was sitting at the bottom of a document that suggested I was part of a financial arrangement I knew nothing about.
"Mom?""
She looked at me.
"Please don't hate me.""
I swallowed.
"What did you sign?""
Nia wiped her face.
"I didn't understand everything.""
"That's not an answer.""
"I thought Marcus was refinancing the business.""
Patricia placed the document on the table.
"Mrs. Johnson, this appears to be a proposed guarantee agreement.""
My mother nodded weakly.
"That's what he told me.""
"What did he tell you about Maya?""
Nia glanced at me.
"He said the car would be registered in her name, and that it would help establish her credit history later.""
I stared at her.
"But I'm seventeen.""
"That's why he needed the additional paperwork.""
Patricia shook her head.
"A minor cannot simply assume the obligations described here. The document would need to be reviewed carefully, and the proposed arrangement raises serious concerns.""
I looked at the financial section.
There was a debt figure.
$82,000.
My heart started pounding.
"Why is there an eighty-two-thousand-dollar debt attached to my name?""
Marcus finally spoke.
"Because the business needed financing.""
I turned toward him.
"You were going to put business debt on me?""
"It was a temporary arrangement.""
"I'm seventeen!""
"You wouldn't have had to pay anything.""
"Then why use my name?""
He slammed his hand against the table.
"Because I was trying to build something for this family!""
Tasha shook her head.
"With my inheritance?""
Marcus pointed at her.
"Your inheritance was sitting there doing nothing!""
"It was for my future!""
"And I was making sure this family had one!""
Patricia stood.
"Mr. Johnson, this meeting is over if you continue shouting.""
Marcus laughed.
"You're in my house.""
Patricia calmly gathered her papers.
"And these are not your documents.""
That stopped him.
She looked at Tasha.
"I recommend that you leave this property with your personal belongings and avoid further direct discussions about the trust until we have completed our review.""
Tasha nodded.
I stood beside her.
"I'm coming too.""
My mother looked up.
"Maya, don't leave.""
I stared at her.
"Why?""
"Because you're my daughter.""
I looked at the document again.
"Then why did you let him put my name on something I didn't understand?""
She started crying.
"I didn't think he would actually use it.""
"How do you know he hasn't already?""
Nobody answered.
Patricia placed the document into a protective folder.
"We'll request verification from the lender.""
Marcus shook his head.
"This is a misunderstanding.""
Patricia looked at him.
"Then the records will establish that.""
Tasha picked up her purse.
As we headed toward the door, my mother followed.
"Maya, please.""
I turned.
She was standing in the hallway, barefoot now, holding the shoes she'd worn for my birthday.
Her perfectly styled hair was falling loose.
For the first time that day, she looked less like the woman who cared about appearances and more like someone who was afraid of losing everything.
"Can we talk?"" she whispered.
I hesitated.
Tasha stepped outside.
I stayed.
Mom looked at me.
"I know I've made mistakes.""
"Why did you treat Tasha differently?""
She lowered her eyes.
"Marcus always said she needed stricter boundaries.""
"Why?""
"Because she had money from her mother.""
I stared at her.
"What does that have to do with anything?""
"He said she would become spoiled if she got everything she wanted.""
"She wanted eight hundred dollars for college!""
"I know.""
"She wanted new shoes!""
"I know, Maya.""
"She wanted to feel like she belonged here!""
My mother began crying.
"I know.""
I shook my head.
"No, Mom. You don't.""
I stepped outside.
Tasha was waiting beside Mr. Reynolds's car.
As I approached, she looked at me.
"Are you okay?""
I nodded.
"Let's go.""
But before we could leave, my phone vibrated.
It was a message from an unknown number.
You need to know what happened to your birthday car. Ask Marcus about the dealership's second payment.
I frowned.
I showed Tasha.
She read it twice.
"Who sent that?""
"I don't know.""
Another message arrived.
The first payment came from your stepsister's trust. The second payment came from a loan that was never approved.
I looked at Mr. Reynolds.
He took my phone.
"Don't reply.""
He examined the message.
"Do you recognize the number?""
I shook my head.
He photographed the screen.
"This could be important.""
Tasha looked worried.
"What does the second payment mean?""
Mr. Reynolds opened his briefcase again.
"I'll contact the dealership and the lender.""
He looked at both of us.
"Until then, neither of you should discuss this with Marcus.""
We left.
That evening, Tasha and I stayed at Mr. Reynolds's office while Patricia arranged temporary accommodation for her.
I called my best friend, Lauren, and told her I wouldn't be returning home that night.
She immediately offered to pick us up.
But before I could answer, Tasha received another email.
This one came from the bank.
The subject line read:
*TRUST ACCOUNT: ACCESS RESTRICTION CONFIRMED.*
She opened it.
The remaining funds had been frozen pending investigation.
She exhaled.
"At least they can't take anything else.""
I sat beside her.
"How much is left?""
"Sixty-three thousand, according to the last statement.""
She stared at the number.
Then she whispered, "My mom worked so hard for that money.""
I put my arm around her.
"We'll figure this out.""
She leaned against my shoulder.
For the first time that day, neither of us spoke about Marcus.
We talked about Elena instead.
Tasha told me how her mother used to sing while cooking.
How she kept birthday cards in an old shoebox.
How she used to leave handwritten notes in Tasha's lunchbox.
And how, when Tasha was little, Elena would take her to the library every Saturday because she believed books could open doors that money couldn't.
I listened.
I realized I knew almost nothing about the woman who had left Tasha such a meaningful inheritance.
And I wished I'd asked more questions before she was gone.
At around nine that evening, Mr. Reynolds returned with Patricia.
They looked serious.
"There's been an update," he said.
Tasha sat up.
"What happened?""
"The dealership confirmed that the vehicle purchase involved two separate financial arrangements.""
I felt my stomach tighten.
"What arrangements?""
"The initial payment came from the account connected to your trust. The remaining balance was supposed to be financed through a third-party lender.""
"Supposed to be?"" I repeated.
Patricia opened her laptop.
"The lender has no record of approving the application under the terms shown on the purchase agreement.""
Tasha looked confused.
"Then how did Marcus get the car?""
Mr. Reynolds answered.
"Someone submitted additional financial documents after the initial application.""
I thought about the paper with my name on it.
"The guarantee agreement?""
"Possibly.""
Patricia nodded.
"We've requested the complete application file. Until we receive it, we cannot confirm how your identity was used.""
I felt sick.
"Can I be responsible for the debt?""
"Not automatically," she said.
"You're a minor, and the validity of any agreement involving your identity will need to be assessed. But we need to act quickly to protect your interests.""
Tasha took my hand.
"Don't worry. We'll prove you never agreed to this.""
I nodded.
Then Mr. Reynolds placed another document on the desk.
"This is what concerns me most.""
It was an email printed on white paper.
The sender was Marcus.
The recipient was an employee at the dealership.
The subject line read:
Birthday Purchase — Final Approval.
I began reading.
Marcus had explained that the vehicle was intended for his stepdaughter.
He had also mentioned that the purchase would be completed using a combination of trust funds and a family-backed loan.
But the final paragraph made my stomach turn.
The girls don't need to know about the financial arrangements. Maya will be excited about the vehicle, and Tasha has already been informed that the family cannot afford additional expenses. Once the paperwork is completed, everything will be handled internally.
I read it again.
Then a third time.
Tasha's hand tightened around mine.
"He planned this.""
Mr. Reynolds nodded.
"It appears the purchase was deliberately concealed from both of you.""
I stared at the printed email.
"Why would he write that?""
Patricia answered quietly.
"People sometimes become careless when they believe nobody will ever see their private communications.""
I looked at the date.
The email had been sent four days before my birthday.
Then I noticed an attachment listed beneath it.
A scanned document.
The file name was:
*MAYA_JOHNSON_GUARANTOR_FINAL.pdf*
My breathing stopped.
"That's the agreement.""
Patricia clicked the document.
A signature appeared on the final page.
It looked like mine.
But I had never signed it.
I had never even seen it.
Tasha stared at the screen.
"That's not her signature.""
Patricia zoomed in.
The signature had been copied from another document.
A school permission form.
One I had signed months earlier.
My stomach turned.
"Someone copied my signature?""
Patricia nodded slowly.
"That's what it appears to show.""
Then she scrolled farther down.
There was another name beneath mine.
The person listed as the witness.
My mother.
Nia Johnson.
I stared at the screen.
She hadn't merely signed a document she didn't understand.
She had witnessed a signature that wasn't mine.
And suddenly, I remembered something.
Three weeks earlier, Mom had asked me to sign several school forms at the kitchen counter.
She'd said she needed them for an upcoming school trip.
I'd signed without thinking.
I looked at Tasha.
"She had access to my signature.""
Tasha's face went pale.
Mr. Reynolds closed the laptop.
"We need to preserve this evidence and contact the appropriate authorities.""
I sat completely still.
The birthday car wasn't just a gift bought with stolen money.
It might have been part of a much larger financial scheme involving my identity.
Then my phone rang.
It was my mother.
I almost let it go to voicemail.
But something made me answer.
"Maya," she whispered.
"What's wrong?""
I heard her crying.
Then she said something that made my blood run cold.
"Marcus just left the house.""
I frowned.
"Where did he go?""
"He took the folder from his office.""
"What folder?""
"The original documents.""
My heart started pounding.
"Mom, what original documents?""
She lowered her voice.
"The ones with your signatures.""
I stood up.
"Where is he going?""
There was a long silence.
Then my mother whispered:
"He said he was going to find the person who helped him make them.""
May you like
And before she hung up, she added six words that changed everything.
*"Maya, I think you're not his only victim.""*
