Chapter 4 - The House With Two Locked Bedrooms
I wanted to drive straight to my mother’s house and demand an explanation.
Instead, I called an attorney.
Her name was Olivia Chen.
She specialized in family and civil matters, and a colleague in Dallas had recommended her years earlier.
I explained what I had discovered.
The money.
The school documents.
The false messages.
Maya’s fear of returning home.
Olivia listened.
Then she asked an important question.
“Do you have legal custody of your daughter?”
“Yes. I’m her father and legal guardian. My mother has been her caregiver under a limited written authorization.”
“Then we need to review that arrangement and ensure Maya has a safe place to stay while you address the concerns.”
I looked at my daughter.
She was sitting in the passenger seat, staring out the window.
“Can she stay with me?”
“We’ll review the documents and any applicable orders, but don’t assume your mother has authority she may not possess.”
Olivia suggested that I contact Maya’s school and relevant professionals about her immediate welfare, while preserving financial and communication records.
I agreed.
Then I called Claire Morgan, Sarah’s younger sister.
We hadn’t spoken properly in two years.
My mother always said Claire resented her for raising Maya.
Claire answered on the first ring.
“Jason?”
“Claire.”
“What happened?”
I closed my eyes.
“I’m in Austin.”
A pause.
“Is Maya okay?”
“I’m trying to find out.”
Her voice sharpened.
“Where is she?”
“With me.”
I told her enough to explain the situation.
Claire began crying.
“I knew something was wrong.”
My stomach tightened.
“What do you mean?”
“I tried visiting her.”
“When?”
“Last Christmas.”
I stared at the dashboard.
“Evelyn said you refused to come.”
Claire made a disbelieving sound.
“She told me you didn’t want Sarah’s family involved anymore.”
I closed my eyes.
Another lie.
Claire offered us her guest room.
I thanked her, then asked Maya what she wanted.
She stared at me.
“Can we really go to Aunt Claire’s?”
“Yes.”
“She has Mom’s pictures.”
My throat tightened.
“Then let’s go.”
Before leaving, we needed Maya’s medication, school materials, and personal belongings.
Olivia advised us on the appropriate way to retrieve them without creating an unnecessary confrontation.
I called Evelyn.
She answered cheerfully.
“Jason! Did you finally talk some sense into that girl?”
My hands tightened around the steering wheel.
“I’m in Austin.”
Silence.
“What?”
“I visited Maya’s school.”
Another pause.
Then her voice hardened.
“You should’ve told me you were coming.”
“Why?”
“Because Maya’s been lying to everyone.”
I stared at the road.
“We need her belongings.”
“What?”
“She’s staying with me for now.”
Evelyn laughed.
“Jason, you don’t know the first thing about raising a teenage girl.”
“You’re right about one thing,” I said quietly. “I have a lot to learn.”
Her voice sharpened.
“Bring her home.”
“I’ll be there shortly to collect her things.”
I ended the call.
Maya was trembling.
“Is she mad?”
“Yes.”
She lowered her head.
“Sorry.”
I pulled into a parking lot.
Turned toward her.
“Sweetheart, you are not responsible for Grandma’s reaction.”
She looked unconvinced.
But she nodded.
We arrived at the house with Claire and another trusted adult nearby.
The house looked better than I remembered.
Fresh paint.
New landscaping.
An expensive SUV in the driveway.
My mother opened the door wearing a cream cardigan.
She smiled at me.
Then saw Maya.
The smile disappeared.
“What have you told him?”
Maya stepped behind me.
I felt my chest tighten.
“Mom. We’re here for her belongings.”
Evelyn folded her arms.
“After everything I’ve done?”
I looked past her.
The living room had new furniture.
A large television.
Imported rugs.
Nothing about the house suggested that my daughter needed to save half a bread roll.
“Where’s her room?”
“You know where it is.”
I walked down the hallway.
Maya’s bedroom was small.
The paint was peeling.
Her bedspread was thin.
A broken desk lamp sat beside a stack of schoolbooks.
But the room across the hall was locked.
I remembered it as my father’s old study.
“What’s in there?”
Evelyn appeared behind me.
“Storage.”
I looked toward another locked bedroom.
“And there?”
“More storage.”
Maya stood beside me.
“Grandma says I’m not allowed in those rooms.”
I didn’t force the doors.
But I made a note to investigate the property and the financial records lawfully.
I helped Maya pack.
Three pairs of jeans.
Five school shirts.
Two worn sweaters.
A photograph of Sarah.
And a small notebook.
As we approached the front door, Evelyn grabbed my arm.
“Jason, don’t be foolish.”
I looked down at her hand.
“Let go.”
She released me.
I asked quietly, “Where did Maya’s education money go?”
Her face changed.
“What?”
“The thirty-two thousand dollars.”
She smiled nervously.
“School expenses.”
“Then you can provide an accounting.”
She stared at me.
I continued.
“And where did the laptop money go?”
“She spent it!”
Maya flinched.
I stepped between them.
“Enough.”
Evelyn’s expression hardened.
“You’re going to believe a spoiled child over your own mother?”
I looked at her.
“I’m going to follow the records.”
We left.
That night, Maya slept in Claire’s guest room.
I sat at the kitchen table reviewing the documents I had.
Then Claire placed an old envelope in front of me.
“Jason, Sarah gave me this before she died.”
I looked up.
“What is it?”
Claire swallowed.
“She said I should open it if Maya ever stopped being able to speak to you freely.”
I stared at the envelope.
My wife’s handwriting was on the front.
May you like
And beneath my name were six words:
Please don't let Evelyn control everything.
