Chapter 2: The Signature That Destroyed Everything
The drive home was silent.
My mother kept both hands on the steering wheel, her jaw clenched as if I were the one who had embarrassed her.
Marcus sat in the back seat beside me.
He hadn't spoken since we left the auditorium.
I stared through the window at the streets passing by.
The gold stole lay across my lap.
One end was torn.
The clasp was broken.
I kept running my fingers over the fabric, trying to understand how a day that had started with applause could end with my future being stolen.
Finally, I turned toward her.
"Mom, pull over.""
"No.""
"I need you to explain what happened.""
"I don't owe you an explanation.""
"You signed my name away!""
"I signed a document.""
"A document that canceled four years of work!""
She slammed her palm against the steering wheel.
"Do you have any idea what this family has sacrificed for you?""
I laughed bitterly.
"Yes. I do. I've worked since I was fourteen because you said we couldn't afford things.
I've bought my own school supplies. I've paid for my own transportation. I even paid the electricity bill twice last winter.""
"Because you're part of this family!""
"And I'm supposed to give up college because of that?""
She glanced at me in the rearview mirror.
"You're supposed to remember who raised you.""
Marcus shifted beside me.
"Mom, that's not fair.""
Monique immediately turned her head.
"Nobody asked you, Marcus.""
He sank back into his seat.
When we arrived home, I went straight to the kitchen.
The refrigerator hummed. A pile of unopened mail sat beside the microwave. My father's old coffee mug still occupied its usual place on the shelf.
Everything looked ordinary.
That somehow made the situation worse.
I dropped my graduation cap onto the table.
"Tell me how much the debt is.""
Monique removed her earrings.
"Don't start.""
"How much?""
"Forty-eight thousand dollars.""
I blinked.
"What?""
She opened a cabinet and pulled out a glass.
"Forty-eight thousand. There. Are you satisfied?""
"How do we owe forty-eight thousand dollars?""
"That's none of your concern.""
"Apparently it is if you're using my college scholarship to pay it!""
She slammed the glass onto the counter.
"Your father left financial problems when he died. I have been trying to keep this family together ever since.""
I stared at her.
Dad had been gone for six years.
I remembered his insurance policy. I remembered the envelope he had left with my grandmother. I remembered my mother saying there was enough money to keep us comfortable until she found steady work.
"Didn't Dad have life insurance?""
Monique's expression changed.
Only slightly.
But I noticed.
"That money is gone.""
"All of it?""
"Yes.""
"How?""
"Living expenses, Zarya. Do you think food and rent are free?""
I looked around our kitchen.
The refrigerator was nearly empty. The curtains were faded. A crack ran along the ceiling above the dining table.
But forty-eight thousand dollars?
"Why didn't you tell me?""
"Because I didn't need another problem.""
I pulled out my phone.
"I'm calling the university.""
Monique stepped toward me.
"Don't.""
"I want to know whether they can reverse the cancellation.""
"Zarya, put that phone down.""
"No.""
She grabbed it.
I jerked backward, but she managed to knock it from my hand. It hit the floor, the screen cracking across the middle.
Marcus stood up.
"Mom! Stop!""
Monique pointed at him.
"Go to your room!""
He didn't move.
For a moment, the three of us stared at one another.
Then I picked up my phone.
The screen still worked.
I dialed the number on Mr. Bennett's business card.
He answered after two rings.
"Westbridge Admissions. This is Daniel Bennett.""
"This is Zarya Carter. I'm sorry to call again, but I need to know something.""
"Of course.""
"Can my mother legally cancel my scholarship?""
There was a pause.
"Not simply because she's your mother. The withdrawal request contained a financial authorization document that raised concerns. Our compliance office is reviewing it.""
"Can I see that document?""
"Yes. We can provide you with a copy.""
"Please send it to my email.""
"I will. There's another reason I wanted to speak with you.""
My heart started pounding.
"What is it?""
"The signature on the financial authorization appears to be yours as well.""
I stopped breathing.
"What?""
"The document lists you as having personally approved the withdrawal of your scholarship funds.""
"I never signed anything.""
"That's what we need to establish.""
I looked at my mother.
She had gone completely still.
Mr. Bennett continued.
"Zarya, did you ever sign any financial paperwork for your mother?""
"No.""
"Not even a blank form?""
"No.""
"All right. Please don't delete any messages or documents related to this matter. We'll need to investigate.""
After I ended the call, I turned toward Monique.
"You forged my signature.""
She picked up her glass.
"Don't make accusations you can't prove.""
"I didn't sign anything!""
"Then someone must have made a mistake.""
"Mom, you just admitted you submitted the cancellation!""
She took a slow sip of water.
"I did what was necessary.""
I backed away.
"Necessary for what?""
She didn't answer.
Instead, she walked into the living room and turned on the television.
The conversation was over.
But I wasn't finished.
That night, I sat on my bedroom floor with my laptop open.
My scholarship email was still there.
Congratulations, Zarya Carter. We are delighted to offer you the Westbridge University Presidential Full-Ride Scholarship.
I read it three times.
Then I opened the new email from Mr. Bennett.
There were four attachments.
The cancellation request.
The financial authorization.
A copy of my supposed signature.
And a document titled Household Debt Settlement Agreement.
I opened the last file.
The first page contained my mother's name.
The second page contained mine.
The third page listed the amount owed.
Forty-eight thousand dollars.
But the final page contained something that made my fingers go numb.
The debt wasn't a loan for rent, groceries, or medical expenses.
It was a private business loan.
And the business listed as the borrower was Carter Family Holdings LLC.
I had never heard of it.
At the bottom of the agreement was a handwritten note:
Funds to be recovered through the beneficiary's educational award.
I stared at the screen.
My mother hadn't simply canceled my scholarship.
She had apparently promised someone my future tuition money before I had even graduated.
Then my phone vibrated.
A text message appeared from an unknown number.
Zarya, this is Aunt Denise. Your mother told you your father's insurance money was gone, didn't she?
I frowned.
May you like
A second message arrived.
Please don't confront her yet. There's something your father left for you, and I think you need to see it before she finds out.
