Chapter 8: The Signature That Was Never Mine
I didn't speak for several seconds.
Rebecca noticed my expression and leaned forward.
"Is everything okay?""
I shook my head.
Then I placed the phone on speaker.
"Richard, are you sure?""
His voice cracked.
"Yes. I have the original document. Your mother kept it in a folder with the academy records.""
"Why would she keep it?""
"I don't know. Maybe she thought nobody would ever look.""
I looked at Rebecca.
She immediately took out a notebook.
"Mr. Mitchell, this is Rebecca Lane from the Whitmore Foundation. Would you be willing to provide the document for an independent review?""
Richard hesitated.
"Yes.""
"Can you bring it here today?""
Another pause.
"I can. But Gloria mustn't know.""
I felt something twist inside my chest.
"Richard, why didn't you tell me three years ago?""
He didn't answer immediately.
Then he said, "Because I was afraid of upsetting Gloria.""
The words hurt more than I expected.
I looked at the photograph of my old application.
"I was fourteen.""
"I know.""
"You let me believe I wasn't good enough.""
"I know, Aaliyah.""
"You watched Tessa attend the school that was supposed to be mine.""
His breathing became uneven.
"I thought the scholarship had been transferred legally. Your mother told me you had changed your mind.""
I swallowed.
"Did you ever ask me?""
Silence.
"No.""
I ended the call.
Rebecca placed a glass of water in front of me.
"You don't have to deal with everything today.""
I nodded.
But I knew I needed answers.
Three hours later, Richard arrived.
He looked exhausted.
His shirt was wrinkled, his hair uncombed, and he carried a brown folder under his arm.
He sat across from me.
"I brought it.""
Rebecca asked him to place the document on the table.
She examined the withdrawal form carefully.
The signature was unmistakably written in my name.
But it wasn't mine.
The capital A was wrong.
The final letter had an extra curve.
I'd signed enough school forms to recognize my own handwriting.
Richard pointed to the bottom.
"That's where I signed.""
Rebecca read the statement aloud.
"The undersigned confirms that the student has voluntarily withdrawn from the program and relinquished all associated financial benefits.""
Richard rubbed his forehead.
"Gloria told me Aaliyah had lost interest. She said she was embarrassed about the practical examination and wanted Tessa to have the opportunity instead.""
I stared at him.
"She told you I was embarrassed?""
"Yes.""
"I didn't even know there was a practical examination.""
Richard looked down.
"I know that now.""
Daniel Mercer entered the room carrying another file.
"There's an additional issue.""
Rebecca looked up.
"What did you find?""
Daniel placed a printed enrollment record on the table.
"Northbridge Culinary Studio received the payment, but the financial beneficiary wasn't listed as Tessa.""
He pointed to a line near the bottom.
It read:
*PROGRAM ACCOUNT HOLDER: GLORIA BROOKS.*
I frowned.
"What does that mean?""
Daniel explained.
"The training provider maintained a family development account. The funds were deposited there before being allocated toward Tessa's tuition.""
Richard looked confused.
"Why would Gloria be listed?""
Rebecca turned another page.
"Because the original scholarship payment was processed as a family educational credit.""
She looked at Richard.
"Did your wife ever discuss opening an account?""
He shook his head.
"No.""
Daniel examined the document.
"There's another payment recorded after Tessa's enrollment ended.""
He turned the page toward us.
The amount was $3,200.
The recipient was a private bank account.
I felt dizzy.
"Where did that go?""
Rebecca answered carefully.
"We'll need a formal financial investigation to determine the final destination.""
Richard's face had gone pale.
"I didn't know about any of this.""
Nobody accused him.
Nobody needed to.
He had already admitted what he knew.
Then his phone began vibrating.
The screen displayed GLORIA.
He rejected the call.
It rang again.
And again.
Finally, he answered.
"What?""
Gloria's voice came through loudly enough for everyone to hear.
"Where are you?""
Richard looked at me.
"Out.""
"You're at the academy, aren't you?""
He didn't respond.
Gloria's voice became sharper.
"Did you give them the papers?""
Richard closed his eyes.
"Gloria, we need to talk.""
"How dare you?""
Rebecca reached for a pen.
Richard stood.
"You forged Aaliyah's signature.""
The room went silent.
Then Gloria laughed.
It was a cold, disbelieving laugh.
"Don't be ridiculous.""
"I saw the form.""
"You don't understand what happened.""
"I understand enough.""
Gloria's voice suddenly became quiet.
"Richard, come home. Now.""
"No.""
"Don't make this worse.""
Richard looked at the folder.
"You already made it worse.""
Gloria hung up.
A few seconds later, my phone rang.
I looked at the screen.
MOM.
I let it ring.
Then a message appeared.
*YOU HAVE UNTIL TONIGHT TO COME HOME AND FIX THIS.*
Another followed.
*IF YOU DON'T, I'LL TELL EVERYONE WHAT YOU DID THREE YEARS AGO.*
I stared at it.
"What does she mean?"" Richard asked.
I shook my head.
Rebecca leaned forward.
"Don't respond yet. Save the messages.""
I took screenshots.
Daniel looked concerned.
"Has your mother ever threatened you like this before?""
"Yes.""
"Has she ever threatened to make you leave the house?""
I nodded.
Rebecca wrote something down.
"Given your age, we need to make sure you have a safe arrangement while this review continues.""
Richard immediately spoke.
"She can stay with me.""
Rebecca looked at him.
"That may be possible, but we'll need to assess the situation and make sure Aaliyah is comfortable.""
I looked at Richard.
"Would you let me keep baking?""
He blinked.
"What?""
"Would you let me use the kitchen without making me feel like I'm doing something wrong?""
His eyes filled.
"Yes.""
"Would you let me keep the scholarship?""
"Of course.""
"Would you let me go to the academy?""
He looked down.
"Yes, Aaliyah.""
I wanted to believe him.
But promises had become cheap in my family.
Rebecca suggested that I spend the night with a trusted family friend while the foundation contacted the appropriate youth-support service.
Richard agreed to help arrange it.
Before leaving, he approached me.
"I am sorry.""
I looked at him.
"For what?""
"For believing your mother without asking you. For letting you think you weren't good enough. For not noticing how much she was hurting you.""
I didn't know what to say.
He continued.
"I can't change what happened, but I can stop pretending it didn't.""
I nodded slowly.
"That's a start.""
That evening, I stayed at Madison's house.
Her mother, Laura, made pasta and insisted I eat two servings.
Nobody asked me to surrender anything.
Nobody told me I was selfish.
Nobody compared me to Tessa.
For the first time in years, I slept without worrying about what Gloria might demand the next morning.
But at 11:38 p.m., my phone vibrated.
A new email had arrived from the Whitmore Foundation.
The subject line read:
*URGENT: FINAL FINDINGS FROM THE HISTORICAL SCHOLARSHIP REVIEW.*
I opened it.
The first paragraph confirmed that the original withdrawal form contained a signature that did not match my verified records.
The second paragraph stated that the foundation had requested an independent audit of the transferred funds.
Then I reached the final section.
It contained a statement from Northbridge Culinary Studio.
According to the school, Tessa had never completed the professional pastry course.
In fact, she'd withdrawn after only six weeks.
But the financial records showed that the full tuition had been paid.
I scrolled down.
There was a final attachment.
A receipt.
The remaining scholarship balance had been used to purchase something completely unrelated to pastry training.
I opened it.
My hands went cold.
The receipt was for a luxury apartment deposit.
The apartment was registered under Gloria Brooks.
Not Tessa.
Not Richard.
My mother.
I stared at the screen.
The money she had stolen from my future had helped pay for a home she had never told me about.
And suddenly, Richard's words made sense.
Gloria hadn't been desperate to make Tessa win simply because she favored her.
May you like
She had been trying to keep a secret.
And now that secret was beginning to unravel.
