Chapter 6 - Maya’s Name on the Debt
I thought I had misunderstood the detective.
“My daughter is twelve.”
“I understand.”
“She doesn’t have accounts.”
“That’s why we’re calling.”
I put the phone on speaker.
Simone whispered, “Andre, hang up.”
I looked straight at her.
“No.”
Detective Rollins explained that a credit monitoring company had flagged two online accounts and one retail credit line opened under Maya’s identity.
The total balance was just under eleven thousand dollars.
My vision blurred.
“Who opened them?”
“We’re still investigating. Some activity traces to devices associated with your household.”
I turned toward Simone.
Her lips parted.
No sound came out.
Rollins asked me to bring identification, Maya’s documents, and any financial records connected to suspicious activity.
When the call ended, I said, “Tell me you didn’t.”
Simone shook her head quickly.
“I didn’t.”
“Tell me you didn’t use my daughter’s identity.”
“I said I didn’t.”
“Did Darius?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did you give him her information?”
“No.”
I stared at her.
Then I remembered the home office.
The locked file cabinet contained birth certificates, tax records, insurance paperwork, Social Security cards.
Only two people had keys.
Me and Simone.
I ran upstairs.
The cabinet was locked.
Inside, Maya’s folder was thinner than the others.
Her Social Security card was gone.
So was a photocopy of her birth certificate.
I heard Simone behind me.
“I can explain that too.”
I turned.
“Stop saying that.”
“Andre—”
“Every time you say you can explain something, my daughter loses another piece of her life.”
She started crying.
Not soft tears.
Angry ones.
“You act like I’m some monster. Do you know what it’s like trying to raise three kids when you treat one of them like she’s made of glass?”
“She lost her mother.”
“And the rest of us have to lose everything because of it?”
I just stared.
There it was.
Not jealousy of money.
Jealousy of grief.
Of the space Maya’s pain occupied in our home.
Simone wiped her face.
“I gave Darius copies of documents.”
My stomach turned.
“Whose?”
“Everybody’s.”
“Why?”
“He said he could repair our credit. Get better rates.”
“We have excellent credit.”
“Not mine.”
That stopped me.
Simone had told me her old debt was resolved before we married.
It wasn’t.
“How bad?”
She looked down.
“Bad.”
“How bad?”
“About ninety thousand.”
I felt the room tilt.
“Ninety thousand dollars?”
“Before we got married.”
“And you hid it.”
“I was ashamed.”
“So you let your brother use my daughter’s identity?”
“I didn’t know he would do that.”
I wanted to believe she was lying.
Because the truth was somehow worse: she might have handed a predator the keys to my child’s future and never even bothered to ask what he would do.
Then I heard a small sound from the hallway.
Maya stood there.
Backpack still on.
May you like
She had come home early.
And she had heard everything.
