Chapter 14 - The Demand Letter
Simone Barrett sent the letter Friday morning.
It was six pages long.
Jordan read every word.
The letter demanded preservation of financial records, restoration of funds, documentation of the closed 529 account, an accounting of withdrawals from the grandfather fund, and compliance with the vehicle-contribution provision in the divorce settlement.
It did not accuse Marcus of theft.
It did not threaten prison.
It did not insult him.
Somehow, its calmness made it more severe.
Marcus called Jordan fourteen minutes after receiving it.
Jordan declined.
He called Alicia.
She declined.
He called Tiana.
She answered.
Later, she told Jordan the conversation lasted twenty-two seconds.
“What did he say?”
“He called me disloyal.”
“What did you say?”
“I told him loyalty isn’t lying on command.”
Jordan almost smiled.
At work, he focused on the Camry.
Vernon’s nephew brought it by.
Blue-gray paint.
Scratch along the passenger door.
Fabric seats.
Clean engine bay.
Jordan drove it around the parking lot.
The steering felt solid.
The brakes were good.
The air conditioner worked.
When he parked, he remained behind the wheel.
For a moment, he imagined owning it.
No bus transfers.
No standing in winter rain.
No watching the clock during late shifts.
Vernon leaned through the open window.
“You like it.”
“I love it.”
“Don’t love used cars. They’ll sense weakness.”
Jordan laughed.
“How long can your nephew wait?”
“Another week.”
Jordan’s smile faded.
“I won’t have it.”
“You have three thousand.”
“Thirty-one forty-two.”
“Very specific.”
“Painfully.”
Vernon scratched his beard.
“What about financing?”
“I don’t want a loan if I can avoid it.”
“Smart.”
Jordan looked at the dashboard.
“My dad legally agreed to help.”
Vernon said nothing.
“He has money that belonged to me.”
Still nothing.
“But if I use it now, it feels like I lost.”
Vernon frowned.
“Why?”
“Because then he gets to say I needed him.”
“Didn’t you?”
Jordan looked at him.
Vernon shrugged.
“Everybody needs somebody.”
“That isn’t what he thinks.”
“Your father’s beliefs don’t change arithmetic.”
Jordan smiled reluctantly.
Vernon tapped the roof.
“This car costs fifty-eight hundred. You have thirty-one hundred. Somebody has to cover twenty-seven.”
Jordan looked down.
“Difference is whether it’s help or leverage.”
That stayed with him.
After his shift, Keisha called.
“The dealership bought the car back.”
Jordan stopped walking.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“What did Marcus say?”
“He signed because the financing hadn’t fully funded yet and they offered him a cleaner exit.”
“How much did he lose?”
“About nine hundred in fees and restocking.”
Jordan expected satisfaction.
He felt none.
“What happens to the six thousand down payment?”
“Refund to Marcus.”
Jordan’s stomach tightened.
“Okay.”
“I told him where I think it should go.”
“Keisha.”
“I know. Not my business.”
“It became your business.”
She sighed.
“Maybe.”
Jordan heard traffic behind her.
“Are you and Marcus okay?”
Long silence.
“No.”
“I’m sorry.”
“That’s kind of you.”
“I mean it.”
“I know.”
She hesitated.
“He thinks you’re trying to destroy him.”
Jordan looked toward the bus stop.
“I’m trying to get back what he took.”
“I told him that.”
“He doesn’t hear the difference.”
“No.”
Keisha lowered her voice.
“Jordan, can I ask something?”
“Sure.”
“If Marcus repays everything, what happens?”
Jordan thought.
“I don’t know.”
“You forgive him?”
“I don’t know.”
“You stop talking to him?”
“I don’t know.”
Keisha sighed.
“Fair.”
Jordan boarded the bus.
As he sat, another message arrived.
Marcus.
A photograph.
The returned-car refund receipt.
Then text:
Happy now?
Jordan stared.
His thumb hovered over the keyboard.
He wanted to write:
You still think this is about the car.
Instead he took a screenshot and sent it to Simone.
Then deleted the draft.
Ten minutes later, Marcus sent another.
I have spent eighteen years providing for you. One mistake and suddenly I’m a thief.
Jordan’s chest tightened.
Another.
Your mother is enjoying this.
Then:
If you keep pushing lawyers into family business, understand there will be consequences.
Jordan stared at the final message.
Not because it frightened him.
Because it confirmed something.
Marcus still believed being a father had purchased the right to avoid accountability.
Jordan forwarded the entire exchange to Simone.
Her reply was immediate.
Do not engage.
Alicia texted seconds later.
Your father just canceled the authorized-user card he gave you for emergencies.
Jordan almost laughed.
He had used that card once in six months.
For cold medicine.
Then another notification came.
His phone service.
Account change pending.
Marcus was removing his line from the family plan.
Jordan looked at the cracked screen.
Consequences.
So that was what Marcus meant.
Jordan called Alicia.
“He’s cutting off my phone.”
“I’ll add you to mine.”
“No.”
“Jordan.”
“I’ll pay for my own.”
“You don’t have to prove—”
“I know.”
He smiled faintly.
“This time I want to.”
He opened his budgeting app.
Phone plan.
Bus fare.
Car savings.
Everything had a number.
What Jordan had not expected was a second email waiting beneath the notifications.
From Simone.
Subject:
Urgent — Response from Marcus’s Counsel.
Jordan opened it.
Marcus had hired an attorney.
And according to the response, he denied ever agreeing that the grandfather account was solely for Jordan.
Attached was a document Jordan had never seen.
A typed memorandum.
Signed by Theodore Price.
Or at least, appearing to be.
It said the ten thousand dollars was intended for “general family support as Marcus sees fit.”
Jordan stared at his grandfather’s supposed signature.
Then looked at the handwritten letter in his backpack.
One of the documents was lying.
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And for the first time, the question was no longer only where Marcus had spent the money.
It was how far he was willing to go to keep it.
