Chapter 3
Uncle Marcus arrived forty minutes later with three bags of takeout and a woman in a black blazer.
She introduced herself as Lydia Vance.
Family lawyer.
I did not know families could need lawyers at hotels.
But apparently ours did.
Uncle Marcus hugged Dad first.
Hard.
No words.
Just a grip that made Dad close his eyes.
Then he turned to me.
“Maya.”
I stepped into his arms before I could overthink it.
He smelled like coffee and wintergreen gum.
“You okay, kiddo?”
I shook my head against his jacket.
“Good answer,” he said softly. “Honest one.”
Then he looked at Devin.
For a second, Devin looked ready to reject him.
Then Uncle Marcus opened one arm.
Devin walked into it.
He was taller than Marcus, but he folded like a child.
That was when I knew the day had broken all of us.
Lydia did not rush us.
She set her briefcase on the table and waited until everyone had plates of food.
Dad barely touched his.
I ate because Uncle Marcus placed a fork in my hand and said, “Fuel before legal war.”
Lydia asked questions in a calm voice.
Who lived in the house.
Whose name was on the deed.
Whether Cassandra had legal custody of Devin.
Whether Dad had adopted him.
I watched Dad’s face when she asked that.
He swallowed.
“Yes. I adopted Devin when he was six.”
Devin stared down at his food.
“So legally,” Lydia said, “both Maya and Devin are your children.”
Dad looked at both of us.
“Yes.”
The word filled the room.
Both.
Not one real and one extra.
Not one daughter and one stepson.
Both.
Lydia took notes.
Then she turned to me.
“Maya, I need to ask about the vacation. You can answer only what you know.”
I nodded.
My hands were cold.
“When did you first learn you were not going?”
“This morning.”
“Did Cassandra tell you why?”
“She said I needed a quiet week to focus on my attitude.”
“Had there been a serious argument?”
I looked at Dad.
He nodded, encouraging.
“No. She was mad because I got a B in chemistry and because I didn’t want to wear the dress she bought for the resort photos.”
Lydia wrote that down.
“What dress?”
“A yellow one. It was too tight.”
Dad looked at me sharply.
I had not told him that.
Cassandra had said I was ungrateful.
She had said girls who looked like me needed structure or we got sloppy.
I had never repeated that part.
“What do you mean too tight?” Lydia asked.
“I couldn’t sit right in it.”
Dad’s jaw tightened.
“And she wanted you to wear it for photos?”
“Yes. Then she said it didn’t matter because I wasn’t coming.”
Devin whispered, “God.”
Lydia looked at him.
“Devin, when did you learn Maya wasn’t included?”
He pushed food around with his fork.
“Last Thursday.”
“Who told you?”
“My mom.”
“What exactly did she say?”
He breathed out shakily.
“She said Maya was staying with Aunt Lorraine because Dad agreed Maya was becoming impossible. She said not to bring it up because Maya would make a scene.”
Lydia wrote.
“Did you see tickets?”
“Yeah.”
“How many?”
“Three.”
“Did you ask why?”
“I asked if Dad knew.”
“What did Cassandra say?”
“She said, ‘Your father knows what’s best for his own daughter, even if he’s too soft to admit it.’”
Dad closed his eyes.
Lydia turned to him.
“Andre, when did you learn there were only three tickets?”
“This morning.”
“How?”
“I saw the resort folder on the entry table. Maya was crying. Cassandra said something about her staying with Lorraine. I opened the folder.”
“Did you consent to Maya being left behind?”
“No.”
His voice was rough.
“Did you know Cassandra canceled Maya’s ticket?”
“No.”
“Was there ever a discussion about excluding Maya from the vacation?”
“Never.”
Lydia nodded.
“This matters.”
Dad looked at her.
“Because?”
“Because deception tied to a minor child, emotional mistreatment, threats toward Devin, possible interference with medication—”
Devin stiffened.
Lydia paused.
“You said anxiety medication?”
Devin nodded.
“Were they prescribed?”
“Yeah. Low dose. School counselor helped me talk to a doctor.”
“Did Cassandra prevent you from taking them?”
He looked ashamed.
“She didn’t throw them out. She just kept saying I didn’t need them. Then she hid the bottle after she found it.”
Dad stood.
The chair scraped hard.
He walked to the balcony door.
His back faced us.
But I could see his reflection in the glass.
He was crying.
I had only seen Dad cry once before, at Mom’s funeral when I was nine.
That was the year he met Cassandra.
That was the year people told me I was lucky.
Lucky Dad found someone.
Lucky Cassandra wanted a family.
Lucky Devin could be like a brother.
Lucky the house would not feel sad forever.
Nobody told me luck could become another kind of grief.
Uncle Marcus followed Dad onto the balcony.
The door closed behind them.
Their voices were low.
I caught only fragments.
“You didn’t know.”
“I should have.”
“She’s good at hiding.”
“I lived there.”
“You trusted your wife.”
“I failed my kids.”
That last line went through me.
I looked down.
Devin wiped his face with his sleeve.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
I did not answer.
Not because I wanted to hurt him.
Because I did not know yet what to do with his apology.
He had known.
He had stayed quiet.
But now I knew silence had been a cage for him too.
Lydia closed her notebook.
“Tonight, the safest thing is to stay here. Andre can arrange for essentials tomorrow. I recommend no direct contact with Cassandra except through me or written messages.”
“She’ll explode,” Devin said.
Lydia looked at him.
“That is not your emergency to manage.”
He flinched.
I did too.
Not your emergency.
How many years had Cassandra’s moods been everybody’s emergency?
Dad and Marcus came back inside.
Dad’s eyes were red, but his voice was steadier.
“What are the next steps?”
Lydia explained.
Temporary separation.
Access to the house.
Protective documentation.
Devin’s medication.
Therapy for both of us.
Financial review.
Phone records.
Airline records.
Dad listened like a man trying to rebuild a bridge while standing in the flood.
Then his phone buzzed again.
Cassandra.
This time, Lydia asked to see it.
Dad handed it over.
She read silently.
Her face hardened.
“What?” Dad asked.
She turned the screen toward him.
The message was long.
Andre, I am warning you now. If you keep my son from me, I will tell everyone what Maya has done to this family. I have emails. I have proof. Do not force me to expose that girl.
My stomach dropped.
“That girl,” I whispered.
Dad took the phone back.
His face went dark.
“What proof?” Lydia asked.
“I don’t know,” I said.
But I did know one thing.
Cassandra never threatened without preparing something.
Devin looked at me.
Then away.
“What?” I asked.
He swallowed.
“There’s a folder.”
My blood chilled.
“What folder?”
He looked at Dad.
“I saw it on Mom’s laptop. It was called Maya Behavior.”
The room went silent.
I felt the walls closing in.
“What was in it?” Dad asked.
Devin’s voice broke.
“Videos.”
I could not breathe.
“What videos?”
May you like
Devin looked at me, ashamed.
“Ones she recorded when you were crying.”
