Chapter 1 - Page Three
Malik Brooks had rehearsed the moment all afternoon.
He had imagined his mother smiling when she opened the box. He had imagined pretending the necklace had not cost nearly every dollar he had managed to save from three months of stocking shelves after school. He had even practiced saying, “Happy birthday, Mom,” without sounding nervous.
What he had not imagined was Darren standing over the broken chain.
The gold pendant landed on the hardwood with a tiny metallic click.
For one stunned second, nobody moved.
Tasha stared at the floor.
Malik stared at his stepfather.
Darren stared at both of them as though he had simply crushed an insect.
“There,” he said. “Problem solved.”
The jewelry box followed. Darren dropped it and brought his shoe down once.
The lid cracked.
Malik felt something inside his chest crack with it.
“You had no right,” he whispered.
Darren turned.
“What?”
Malik’s hands curled.
“I said you had no right.”
Three years earlier, Malik would have lowered his eyes. Two years earlier, he would have gone upstairs. Even six months earlier, he might have swallowed the anger because his mother always looked terrified when Darren and Malik argued.
Tonight he stayed standing.
Darren moved closer.
“Sit down before you forget whose house this is.”
Tasha rose from the sofa.
“Darren.”
He ignored her.
Malik’s voice shook. “Give me the necklace.”
“It’s garbage now.”
“It was hers.”
“It came into my house.”
Tasha stepped between them.
“No,” she said.
Darren finally looked at her.
Her eyes were wet, but her voice had changed.
“You humiliated my son for buying his mother a birthday gift.”
“He needs discipline.”
“No. You do.”
Something shifted in Darren’s face.
Tasha recognized it instantly.
She had seen it before expensive dinners, behind closed bedroom doors, in the garage when nobody else was watching. That tightening around his mouth always came before he stopped pretending to be reasonable.
His hand closed around her upper arm.
“Watch yourself.”
Tasha pulled back.
“Get your hands off me.”
Darren shoved her.
Her rear foot slipped. Her hip hit the sofa first, then her shoulder. One hand caught the cushion.
Malik’s fear disappeared beneath pure instinct.
“DON’T TOUCH MY MOM!”
He moved between them.
Darren took one step forward.
“Move.”
Malik planted his feet.
“Make me.”
“Malik,” Tasha said.
He expected her to tell him to go upstairs.
She had done that before.
Go upstairs.
Close the door.
Don’t make this worse.
Tonight, however, her fingers closed around his sleeve for another reason.
She stood.
“No.”
Darren frowned.
Tasha’s voice remained quiet.
“He doesn’t leave.”
A beat passed.
“You do.”
Darren laughed once.
Not loudly.
Disbelievingly.
“You think you can throw me out of my own house?”
Tasha reached beneath the coffee table.
Malik turned.
He had noticed the thick cream envelope earlier but assumed it contained birthday cards.
Tasha lifted it.
The return address belonged to a law office in Upper Marlboro, Maryland.
Darren’s smile vanished.
“I already did.”
He looked from the envelope to her.
“What is that?”
“You should read it.”
“Tasha.”
“Especially page three.”
Darren snatched the envelope.
The pages inside had already been copied.
His eyes moved quickly across the first page.
Then the second.
When he reached the third, his breathing changed.
Malik noticed.
“What does it say?” he asked.
Darren did not answer.
Tasha did.
“It says a judge granted me temporary exclusive possession of this house.”
Malik stared at her.
Darren’s eyes flashed.
“You went to court?”
“Yes.”
“Behind my back?”
“I went somewhere you couldn’t stop me.”
He threw the papers onto the table.
“This means nothing.”
“It means you’re required to leave once you’re served.”
“Served by who?”
The doorbell rang.
Nobody moved.
Then came a heavy knock.
“Sheriff’s Office.”
Darren looked at Tasha.
For the first time Malik could remember, his stepfather looked uncertain.
Tasha walked toward the door.
Darren caught her wrist.
Malik stepped forward.
Tasha looked down at Darren’s hand.
“Let go.”
There was no fear in her voice now.
Darren released her.
Tasha opened the door.
Two uniformed sheriff’s deputies stood beneath the porch light.
One held a folder.
“Mrs. Brooks?”
“Yes.”
“We’re here regarding the temporary protective order.”
Darren’s jaw clenched.
“This is ridiculous.”
The older deputy looked past Tasha.
“Mr. Darren Cole?”
Darren said nothing.
“Sir, I need you to step over here.”
“This is my home.”
The deputy remained calm.
“That issue is addressed in the order. You’re being served tonight.”
Darren turned toward Tasha.
“You planned this.”
Her face trembled once.
Then steadied.
“I prepared for it.”
The deputy explained that Darren could collect essential personal items under supervision but had to leave the residence until the scheduled hearing.
Darren looked at Malik.
“This is because of you.”
Tasha stepped forward immediately.
“No.”
Her voice was sharper than Malik had ever heard it.
“This is because of you.”
Darren’s gaze moved to the broken pendant on the floor.
Something almost like regret crossed his face.
But it disappeared too quickly.
He walked upstairs with one deputy.
Malik remained beside his mother.
Only when Darren vanished from sight did Tasha’s knees weaken.
Malik caught her.
“Mom?”
“I’m okay.”
“You knew this would happen?”
“No.”
She looked at the shattered jewelry box.
“I knew something eventually would.”
Malik crouched and picked up the pendant.
The tiny gold hummingbird was scratched.
“I’m sorry.”
Tasha stared at him.
“For what?”
“If I hadn’t bought it—”
“Don’t.”
She closed his fingers around the pendant.
“You did something loving.”
Her voice cracked.
“He chose what happened next.”
Upstairs, a drawer slammed.
Tasha flinched.
Malik noticed.
Then something else caught his attention.
Among the papers Darren had thrown across the table was a photocopy of a financial statement.
A number had been circled in red.
$184,620.
Malik pointed.
“What’s that?”
Tasha looked down.
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The softness vanished from her face.
“That,” she said slowly, “is the reason page three isn’t the worst page Darren needs to worry about.”
