Chapter 1: The Boy Who Had Nothing
The first thing I noticed was the empty backpack.
Not the three brand-new backpacks lined up beside the dining table. Not the colorful notebooks, freshly sharpened pencils, or expensive sneakers arranged in neat pairs.
It was the little boy standing in the doorway, holding a backpack that looked like it had survived a war.
Nine-year-old Isaiah stared at everything on the table.
Then he looked down at his shoes.
And quietly asked, "Is there anything left for me?""
My heart sank.
"Isaiah, sweetheart, what do you mean?""
He tightened his fingers around the strap of his old backpack. Its zipper was broken, one pocket hung by a single thread, and the fabric had faded from blue to something closer to gray.
"Nothing," he whispered.
"It's okay.""
But it wasn't okay.
Not even close.
My name is Renee Carter. I had been married to Malcolm for six years, and together we were raising four children in a comfortable house outside Atlanta.
Malcolm had two children from his previous marriage: Isaiah, nine, and his older sister, Naomi, fourteen.
I had two children from my previous relationship: Jordan, eleven, and Ava, eight.
We called ourselves a blended family.
We took family pictures every Christmas. We attended school events together. We celebrated birthdays with matching cakes and made a point of saying that every child under our roof was equally loved.
At least, that was what I believed.
Until that Tuesday morning.
The dining table was covered with school supplies. Jordan had a new black backpack with a basketball logo. Ava had a pink one decorated with little white flowers.
Their notebooks were stacked according to subject.
New sneakers sat underneath their chairs.
Even their lunchboxes matched their backpacks.
But Isaiah had nothing.
I looked toward Tasha, Malcolm's older sister, who had been staying with us for two weeks while her apartment was being renovated.
She was standing beside the table, checking items off a shopping list.
"Tasha, where are Isaiah's supplies?""
She didn't even look up.
"Those aren't yours.""
I blinked.
"What?""
Tasha finally raised her eyes.
"I bought those things for Jordan and Ava. Their father isn't exactly dependable, so somebody has to make sure they're prepared.""
Jordan stopped examining his new backpack.
Ava lowered her eyes.
Isaiah stood perfectly still.
I felt heat creeping up my neck.
"That's fine," I said carefully.
"But where are Isaiah's things?""
Tasha shrugged.
"Maybe Malcolm should have handled that.""
I turned toward Isaiah.
"Didn't Daddy send money for your school supplies?""
The boy nodded.
"He said he did.""
"How much?""
"Five hundred dollars.""
My stomach tightened.
Malcolm had mentioned sending that money three weeks earlier. He had transferred it specifically for Isaiah's school expenses because he was traveling frequently for work.
I remembered him telling me over the phone.
"Make sure my boy gets everything he needs. I don't want him starting another school year without proper supplies.""
I had assumed everything was taken care of.
Apparently, I had been wrong.
I crouched in front of Isaiah.
"Baby, did you ask Aunt Tasha about your backpack?""
He nodded.
"She said Dad didn't send enough.""
"Did she tell you that?""
"Yes.""
"Did she say anything else?""
Isaiah hesitated.
Then he whispered, "She said I shouldn't expect the same things Jordan and Ava get because they're not my father's responsibility.""
The room went silent.
Jordan looked at Tasha.
"That's not fair," he said.
Tasha's face hardened.
"Stay out of grown-up conversations.""
Jordan crossed his arms.
"But Isaiah is my brother.""
Something flickered across Tasha's expression.
I stood.
"Where is the money Malcolm sent?""
Tasha placed her shopping list on the table.
"I don't know. Ask your husband.""
"I am asking you.""
"Renee, I have enough responsibilities without accounting for every dollar Malcolm sends.""
I stared at her.
"Then why did you tell Isaiah there wasn't enough money?""
She picked up her phone.
"Because I know what things cost. Five hundred dollars doesn't go as far as you think.""
I almost laughed.
Five hundred dollars could buy a backpack, notebooks, shoes, uniforms, and plenty of other supplies for a nine-year-old.
I had personally seen the transfer confirmation.
And something about Tasha's confidence bothered me.
She wasn't confused.
She wasn't embarrassed.
She was irritated that I had asked.
I called Malcolm.
He answered after the fourth ring.
"Hey, baby. Everything okay?""
"No.""
His voice changed immediately.
"What happened?""
"Isaiah doesn't have any school supplies.""
Silence.
Then he said, "What do you mean he doesn't have supplies?""
I glanced at the boy.
"His backpack is broken. He has no notebooks, no shoes, nothing. Tasha says the five hundred dollars wasn't enough.""
Malcolm didn't respond immediately.
"Renee, I sent five hundred dollars specifically for Isaiah.""
"I know.""
"Did you see the receipt?""
"Yes.""
"Then where is it?""
I looked at Tasha.
She was suddenly very interested in arranging the pencils.
"I was hoping you could tell me.""
Malcolm exhaled sharply.
"Put me on speaker.""
I did.
"Malcolm, you're on speaker.""
His voice filled the dining room.
"Tasha?""
She froze.
"Yes?""
"Where is my son's school money?""
Tasha folded her arms.
"I used it for household expenses. The children all need things. It's not like I spent it on myself.""
Malcolm's voice dropped.
"You were told that money was for Isaiah.""
"I was trying to help everybody.""
"Everybody didn't need help with Isaiah's school money.""
Tasha rolled her eyes.
"Oh, here we go. Everything is always about Isaiah.""
That was when I saw something in the boy's face.
He wasn't surprised.
He was used to hearing those words.
Malcolm heard it too.
"Put my son on the phone.""
I handed Isaiah the phone.
"Hey, champ," Malcolm said, his voice softening.
"Daddy's sorry. You hear me?""
Isaiah nodded.
"Yes, sir.""
"Did you get your new backpack?""
"No, sir.""
"Your shoes?""
"No, sir.""
Malcolm paused.
"Okay. Daddy is going to fix this.""
Isaiah swallowed.
"Can I still go to school?""
I had to turn away.
Malcolm's voice cracked.
"Of course, son. You're going to school with everything you need.""
After the call, I ordered new supplies for Isaiah.
But I couldn't stop thinking about the money.
Or the way Tasha had spoken to him.
That evening, while the children watched television, I checked the receipt Malcolm had sent me.
The transfer had gone through.
Five hundred dollars.
The recipient's account was listed under Tasha's name because she had offered to purchase the supplies while Malcolm was away.
But there was something else.
A handwritten note beneath the transaction number.
Please make sure Isaiah gets everything. Also, give Renee the envelope I left with you.
I read it twice.
Then a third time.
I looked toward Tasha's bedroom.
She had never mentioned an envelope.
When I asked her about it, she stared at me for several seconds.
"What envelope?""
I held up the receipt.
"The one Malcolm says you have.""
Her expression changed.
Just slightly.
But enough.
Then she said something that made my blood run cold.
May you like
"Renee, some things are better left buried.""
And for the first time since I married Malcolm, I wondered what his family had been hiding from me.
