Chapter 4 - Ten Points
Marcus parked two blocks from the school because he could not drive another foot.
The page shook in his hand.
NIA’S WEEKLY RESPONSIBILITY CHART.
At first glance, it looked normal.
Make bed: 1 point.
Load dishwasher: 1 point.
Homework without reminders: 2 points.
Then the list changed.
No complaining: 2 points.
No talking back: 3 points.
No “dramatic behavior”: 3 points.
Dinner: 10 points.
Marcus read that line three times.
Caleb leaned between the front seats. “Dad?”
“Stay buckled.”
He turned to Nia.
“How long?”
She picked at a loose thread on her backpack.
“Since summer.”
It was September.
“You’ve been losing dinner since summer?”
“Not every day.”
The fact that she rushed to make it sound better broke something in him.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“She said you were stressed.”
Marcus closed his eyes.
“She said your job was already bad and if I caused problems, you might leave.”
His chest tightened.
“I would never leave you.”
“I know now.”
Now.
The word cut.
He drove them to school and walked Nia all the way to the office. Before she went in, he crouched so they were eye level.
“If somebody tells you to keep a secret because telling me will make me stop loving you, that person is lying.”
Nia nodded.
“And you never have to earn food. Ever.”
Her eyes filled.
“Okay.”
Marcus hugged her longer than he usually did.
At work, he canceled every meeting.
Then he called an attorney.
Not a divorce attorney. Not yet.
A family attorney recommended by a partner at his firm.
He explained the chart, the food restriction, the camera.
The attorney, Dana Hall, did not sound shocked.
That scared him more.
“Document everything,” she said. “Do not destroy the original list. Photograph it. Save the camera logs. And speak to the children separately, without coaching.”
“Should I take them out of the house?”
“If you believe they’re in immediate danger, prioritize safety. But be careful about how you move if there are custody issues involving Caleb.”
Caleb.
Marcus was his stepfather. Simone was his biological mother.
Nia was Marcus’s daughter from his first marriage.
For years, Marcus had treated Caleb as his son.
Now one legal fact stood between him and the boy.
That afternoon, he picked up both children.
Simone was not home.
But when Marcus opened the front door, the kitchen looked wrong.
The refrigerator was empty.
Not empty of food.
Empty of everything that belonged to Nia.
Her snacks.
Her yogurt.
The juice she liked.
Even the little container with her name on it.
Then Caleb pointed at the trash.
“Dad.”
May you like
Inside was Nia’s purple lunchbox.
Cut in half.
