Chapter 3
I sat on the edge of the backyard bench, staring at my grandmother's handwriting.
My grandmother had been the person who understood me better than almost anyone.
She had taught me how to repair broken appliances.
She had bought me my first science kit.
When I was twelve, she had helped me build a model heart using plastic tubing and a battery-powered pump.
And whenever my mother criticized my ambitions, Grandma would pull me aside.
"Never apologize for becoming the person God made you capable of being."
I had carried those words through every difficult semester.
Now she was speaking to me again through a letter written before her death.
My hands shook as I continued reading.
Maya, if you are receiving this letter, it means you have earned the opportunity I always knew you deserved.
I wish I could be there to celebrate you.
But there are things about our family that you must finally understand.
I looked up at Dean Evelyn.
"Did you know my grandmother?"
She nodded.
"Very well."
I stared at her.
"How?"
"She served on the university's community advisory board for nearly twelve years."
I had known Grandma volunteered at hospitals and schools.
But I hadn't realized she had been involved with Westbridge.
Dean Evelyn continued.
"She also helped establish several scholarship programs for students from families with limited financial resources."
I looked down at the letter.
"Why didn't she tell me?"
"She wanted you to pursue your education because you loved it, not because you expected financial assistance."
That sounded exactly like Grandma.
I continued reading.
Your mother may try to convince you that your accomplishments belong to her.
They do not.
You owe your family kindness and respect, but you do not owe anyone your future.
I felt tears spill down my cheeks.
The letter continued for another page.
Grandma explained that she had created an educational trust intended to support my studies.
It was separate from the university endowment.
The trust was supposed to provide help with tuition, housing, and certain living expenses.
She had appointed an independent trustee.
But she also wrote something that made my stomach tighten.
I became concerned after learning that Denise had asked several questions about changing the beneficiary instructions.
I never authorized such changes.
I stared at the words.
Changing the beneficiary instructions?
I read the paragraph again.
Then I turned toward Dean Evelyn.
"Did my grandmother know my mother was trying to interfere with my education?"
Dean Evelyn looked uncomfortable.
"Your grandmother raised concerns with the university before she died. But any trust issues would need to be addressed by the trustee and the appropriate legal professionals."
I looked toward the house.
My mother had disappeared inside.
For years, she had made me feel guilty for wanting more.
Now I was beginning to wonder whether she had been doing more than criticizing me.
Had she been trying to control the money my grandmother left?
I folded the letter carefully.
"Who is the trustee?"
"An attorney named Samuel Price."
The name meant nothing to me.
Dean Evelyn handed me a business card.
"He has been expecting your call."
I stared at it.
"Why didn't anyone tell me earlier?"
"Your grandmother's instructions required certain information to be provided when you completed your undergraduate degree. Samuel can explain the legal details."
I nodded slowly.
My father approached us.
His expression was troubled.
"Maya, are you okay?"
I looked up.
For a moment, I considered hiding the letter.
Not because I didn't trust him.
Because I was afraid of what the truth might do to our family.
Then I remembered Grandma's words.
You do not owe anyone your future.
I handed him the letter.
He read it silently.
Halfway through, his expression changed.
By the final paragraph, his hands were trembling.
"Mom knew?"
I nodded.
He stared at the page.
"She never told me about the trust."
"She didn't tell me either."
He sat beside me.
For several seconds, he looked much older than he had that morning.
"Your grandmother and Denise had arguments before she died," he admitted.
I turned toward him.
"What arguments?"
"Your grandmother believed Denise was too controlling about your education."
I felt a sharp pain in my chest.
"Dad, why didn't you tell me?"
He rubbed his forehead.
"Because I thought it was an ordinary family disagreement."
"Did Grandma mention money?"
He hesitated.
"Once."
I stared at him.
"What did she say?"
"She told me that no one should interfere with whatever she left for you."
My throat tightened.
"And you didn't ask why?"
"I did. She said she had taken care of everything legally."
He looked devastated.
"I believed her."
I reached for his hand.
"Dad, you couldn't have known everything."
He shook his head.
"But I should have paid more attention to how Denise treated you."
Before I could answer, my mother appeared at the patio doors.
Her expression changed when she saw the letter in my father's hands.
"Where did you get that?"
My father stood.
"Why didn't you tell me my mother established an education trust for Maya?"
Denise froze.
Then she looked at me.
"She gave you that letter?"
I nodded.
My mother began shaking her head.
"That woman never knew when to stop interfering."
I felt anger flare.
"Grandma was trying to help me."
"She was trying to turn you against me!"
My father stepped forward.
"Denise, answer the question."
She stared at him.
"What question?"
"Did you try to change the trust's beneficiary instructions?"
She laughed bitterly.
"I asked a few questions. That's all."
"Why?"
"Because we were the ones raising Maya! We were the ones paying the bills!"
I stared at her.
"Grandma left that money for my education."
"And who was going to repay us for everything we spent?"
My father looked as though someone had struck him.
"Repay us?"
Denise crossed her arms.
"You always act like raising a child doesn't cost anything."
My father spoke quietly.
"Maya is our daughter. She isn't an investment."
For the first time, my mother seemed uncertain.
Then she hardened again.
"You can all believe whatever you want."
She turned toward the house.
But my father stopped her with his voice.
"Did you contact Westbridge University and try to withdraw Maya's fellowship application?"
Denise went completely still.
I watched her face.
She didn't deny it.
Instead, she asked, "Who told you that?"
My stomach dropped.
My father stared at her.
"Denise."
She looked at me.
"You weren't ready to leave home."
I felt a painful pressure behind my eyes.
"You tried to withdraw my application?"
"I was trying to protect you."
"From what?"
"From making a terrible mistake!"
I stepped closer.
"The fellowship could change my entire career."
"And what about your family?"
I stared at her.
"Why does my happiness always have to hurt you?"
For a moment, something flickered across her face.
Then she turned away.
"I won't stand here and be attacked."
She disappeared inside.
My father looked at me.
"I'm calling Samuel Price tomorrow."
I nodded.
But something continued bothering me.
My mother had seemed terrified when Dean Evelyn mentioned the endowment.
She had recognized the envelope before I opened it.
And she had reacted as though my graduation would trigger something she desperately wanted to prevent.
I looked down at Grandma's letter again.
At the bottom was one final sentence.
If Denise tells you that the family is in financial trouble, ask your father to examine the mortgage statements.
I stared at it.
Then I looked at Dad.
"Dad, when was the last time you checked the mortgage account yourself?"
His expression changed.
May you like
And in that instant, I knew my grandmother had left more than a warning.
She had left us the beginning of an investigation.
