Chapter 6: The Money Behind the Portrait
I read Cameron's message until the screen dimmed.
Ask her about the money.
What money?
I sat up and looked toward my bedroom door.
The hallway was dark.
I could hear Dad moving around downstairs, probably checking the locks before going to bed.
I wanted to wake him.
Instead, I opened Cameron's conversation.
*ME: What money are you talking about?*
He replied almost immediately.
*CAMERON: Ask Mom.*
*ME: Stop playing games.*
*CAMERON: I'm not. You think she did all this just because she likes me better?*
I stared at the message.
Then another appeared.
*CAMERON: There's a reason she wanted that scholarship.*
My stomach tightened.
I typed a response.
*ME: What reason?*
No answer.
I called him.
He declined.
Then he sent one final message.
*CAMERON: Ask where the application fee came from.*
I looked at my phone.
The scholarship application had been free.
There hadn't been any fee.
At least, not for me.
I opened the email again and searched for the original application instructions.
There it was.
A separate optional portfolio preparation program had a registration fee of $250.
But the scholarship itself didn't require it.
Why would Cameron need money?
I got out of bed.
The next morning, Mom was in the laundry room folding towels.
I stood in the doorway.
“Can I ask you something?””
She didn't look up.
“I'm busy.””
“Did you pay Cameron to apply for the scholarship?””
Her hands stopped.
Only for a second.
Then she folded the towel.
“Why would you ask me that?””
“Because he told me to ask about the money.””
Rochelle placed the towel on the stack.
“Your brother needs to stop dragging you into his business.””
“Did you pay him?””
She turned toward me.
“Imani, what exactly are you trying to accomplish?””
“I want to understand what's happening.””
“Nothing is happening.””
“Then answer me.””
She sighed.
“Cameron has expenses.””
“So do I.””
“You don't have the same responsibilities.””
I stared at her.
“I'm asking about the scholarship.””
Mom picked up another towel.
“I helped him with some things. That's all.””
“How much?””
She didn't answer.
“Mom?””
“Two hundred and fifty dollars.””
I felt my stomach drop.
“For what?””
“The preparation program.””
“Why didn't he tell me?””
“Because it wasn't your business.””
I stepped into the room.
“Was the money from Grandma's account?””
Mom froze.
The towel slipped slightly from her hands.
“What?””
“Grandma left me money for my art supplies. Dad told me there was still some saved from her estate.””
Rochelle's expression changed.
“Who told you that?””
“Dad.””
She put the towel down.
“That money was never exclusively yours.””
I felt cold.
“What do you mean?””
“Your grandmother wanted to help the family. She didn't intend for everything to be spent on one child.””
I stared at her.
“But Dad said it was set aside for my art.””
“Your father says a lot of things.””
I took out my phone.
“Did you use it for Cameron's application?””
She stepped closer.
“Lower your voice.””
“Did you?””
Before she could answer, Dad appeared in the doorway.
“What money?””
Mom closed her eyes.
“Russell, not now.””
He looked at me.
“Imani?””
I swallowed.
“Cameron said I should ask about the money. Mom said she paid for his portfolio preparation program.””
Dad turned toward Rochelle.
“With what money?””
She folded her arms.
“Don't start.””
“Was it from Evelyn's account?””
“Some of it.””
Dad stared at her.
“How much?””
“Two hundred and fifty dollars.””
“Why?””
“Because Cameron needed help.””
Dad shook his head.
“That money was left for Imani.””
“Evelyn wanted to help the children.””
“She specifically told us to save it for Imani's art education.””
Mom's voice rose.
“She was seventeen! Cameron was struggling!””
I looked at her.
“You knew?””
She turned toward me.
“I was trying to help your brother.””
“With money Grandma left for me?””
“You have a father who can pay for your supplies!””
Dad stepped forward.
“That isn't the point.””
Rochelle pointed toward him.
“You always make everything about fairness. Sometimes a family has to make sacrifices.””
Dad's expression hardened.
“Then why is it always our daughter's sacrifice?””
Nobody answered.
Dad asked Mom to show him the account records.
She refused at first.
Then, after several minutes of arguing, she walked into the bedroom and returned with a folder.
She dropped it on the kitchen table.
“Here. Look.””
Dad opened it.
I stood beside him.
There were several pages of statements.
The first showed the remaining balance from Grandma's account.
The next showed a transfer of $250.
The recipient was a local portfolio preparation service.
The date was two weeks earlier.
Dad turned the page.
Then another.
His expression grew darker.
“Rochelle.””
“What?””
“What's this?””
He pointed to a second transaction.
Another $600.
The recipient was Cameron.
I stared at the amount.
“Mom, what was that for?””
She quickly reached for the paper.
“That's not relevant.””
Dad moved it away.
“Where did six hundred dollars go?””
“He needed a laptop repair.””
“His laptop was working.””
“He needed other things.””
“What things?””
Rochelle pressed her lips together.
Dad turned another page.
There were smaller withdrawals.
$75.
$120.
$90.
They added up.
I felt my chest tighten.
“How much is left?””
Mom didn't answer.
Dad looked at the final balance.
Then he slowly closed the folder.
“Rochelle, this account was supposed to support Imani's education.””
“I was going to put the money back.””
“When?””
“When things settled down.””
“Did Cameron know where the money came from?””
Mom glanced toward the hallway.
“I don't know.””
Dad looked at me.
“Go upstairs for a minute, sweetheart.””
I didn't move.
“Dad, I want to know.””
He nodded.
“Okay. Then stay.””
He turned back to Rochelle.
“Did you tell Cameron that the money was his?””
She rubbed her forehead.
“He needed something to work toward.””
“So you gave him money that wasn't his?””
“I was trying to give him a chance!””
Dad's voice became quieter.
“And what chance did you give your daughter?””
Mom looked away.
I wanted to cry.
Not because of the money alone.
But because Grandma had trusted my parents to protect something she had left for me.
And now even that had become another thing Cameron could take.
That afternoon, Ms. Whitmore called.
She had received a response from the scholarship committee.
They had frozen the replacement application pending verification.
But there was a problem.
The committee had received a second document from Cameron.
This one was a signed declaration stating that Imani had voluntarily allowed him to use her artwork as reference material.
I read the declaration on Dad's phone.
At the bottom was my name.
Not my handwriting.
Not my signature.
But my name.
“Dad,” I whispered.
He looked over my shoulder.
“Did you sign this?””
“No.””
He enlarged the page.
The declaration had been witnessed by Rochelle.
I looked up.
“Mom?””
She stood near the kitchen counter.
Her face had gone pale.
Dad turned toward her.
“You signed this?””
Rochelle didn't respond.
“Rochelle, did you witness this declaration?””
She swallowed.
Then she said something that made my legs feel weak.
“Cameron told me Imani had agreed. I thought I was helping him.””
Dad held up the page.
“Then why does it say you personally witnessed her signing it?””
Mom looked down.
“I didn't know what the form meant.””
I stared at her.
“You signed my name?””
She shook her head.
“No. I didn't sign your name.””
“Then why does it say you watched me sign?””
Her lips parted.
Nothing came out.
Dad placed the phone on the table.
“Tomorrow, we're going to the school together. And we're going to tell them exactly what happened.””
Rochelle suddenly reached for his arm.
“Russell, please. Don't make this bigger than it needs to be.””
He stepped away.
“It's already bigger than it needed to be.””
My phone vibrated.
Another message from Cameron.
*CAMERON: You need to stop Dad before he talks to the school.*
Then a photograph arrived.
It showed a printed copy of the declaration.
Beneath it was a handwritten note.
I zoomed in.
The note contained seven words.
Mom promised this would stay between us.
I looked at Rochelle.
She was staring at my phone.
And for the first time, I realized Cameron hadn't acted alone.
May you like
My mother had known more than she was admitting.
And whatever promise she had made to him was about to become the biggest problem in our family.
