Chapter 12 - Jordan’s Name on the Paper
Jordan printed the document at school.
Coach Reed found him staring at it in the athletic office.
“What is that?”
Jordan handed it over.
Reed read silently.
His expression hardened.
“Have you shown your father?”
“No.”
“Do you understand what this means?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Jordan frowned.
Coach Reed placed the document down.
“Because neither do I, and pretending otherwise would be dangerous.”
Jordan sat.
“So what do I do?”
“Talk to somebody who does.”
Coach Reed called Alicia.
Within an hour she had contacted a friend, Denise Harper, a Raleigh attorney who handled contracts and consumer disputes.
They arranged a video call after school.
Denise appeared on screen wearing glasses and a gray suit.
“First,” she said, “do not panic.”
Jordan nodded.
“Second, your name appearing here does not automatically mean you owe anyone money.”
Jordan exhaled slightly.
“You were sixteen when this agreement was signed.”
“So I couldn’t sign.”
“Correct.”
“I didn’t.”
“I can see that.”
Denise enlarged the document.
“The concerning part is this phrase.”
Contingent Beneficiary / Secondary Account Holder.
“What account?” Jordan asked.
“That’s what we need to determine.”
Alicia joined the call.
“I never opened an investment account for Jordan.”
Denise nodded.
“Marcus may have.”
Jordan frowned.
“Why?”
“Sometimes parents create custodial accounts.”
Jordan looked at his mother.
Alicia’s face changed.
“Oh.”
“What?”
She leaned toward the screen.
“Your grandfather.”
Jordan sat upright.
“Granddad Calvin?”
“No. My father. Henry.”
Jordan remembered his maternal grandfather, who had died when Jordan was ten.
Alicia continued.
“Dad left Jordan fifteen thousand dollars.”
Jordan stared.
“You never told me.”
“You were ten.”
“What happened to it?”
“I thought Marcus put it into a custodial brokerage account.”
Jordan’s breathing changed.
Denise asked, “Do you have documentation?”
“Somewhere.”
Alicia stood immediately.
Jordan looked toward Coach Reed.
The room suddenly felt smaller.
Twenty minutes later Alicia returned to the call holding an old scanned statement.
“Found it.”
She uploaded the document.
Denise read.
“UTMA.”
Jordan frowned.
“What’s that?”
“Uniform Transfers to Minors Act account.”
Denise adjusted her glasses.
“Money transferred to you, managed by a custodian until the legal termination age under the relevant state rules.”
“Who was custodian?”
Alicia already knew.
“Marcus.”
Jordan stopped moving.
Denise continued cautiously.
“We still do not know that this is the account referenced in the investment document.”
Jordan’s voice became flat.
“But it could be.”
“Yes.”
“How much should’ve been in it?”
Alicia looked devastated.
“Fifteen thousand initially.”
“Ten years ago?”
“Seven.”
Jordan did the math.
“With growth?”
Denise answered carefully.
“Depends how it was invested.”
Jordan looked at Coach Reed.
“Can Dad use it?”
“For Jordan’s benefit, custodians can generally spend in ways permitted by applicable law.”
“For his investment?”
“No.”
The word landed hard.
Jordan stood.
Coach Reed motioned for him to sit.
Jordan ignored him.
“I need to go home.”
Alicia said, “Do not accuse him until we know.”
Jordan laughed bitterly.
“How many times am I supposed to wait for the next truth?”
Denise remained calm.
“Because if money was improperly transferred, facts matter.”
Jordan forced himself to breathe.
“Okay.”
Denise continued.
“We need statements.”
Jordan nodded.
“I know where he keeps financial folders.”
Coach Reed immediately said, “You’re not breaking into anything.”
“I live there.”
“Still.”
Jordan glared.
Reed held his gaze.
“You want truth, not another fight about how you got it.”
Jordan hated that he was right.
That evening Marcus arrived home carrying groceries.
Jordan sat at the kitchen table.
The championship trophy was in front of him.
Beside it lay the investment document.
Marcus saw the paper.
He stopped.
Jordan watched his face.
That was enough.
“You know what it is.”
Marcus set the grocery bags down.
“Where did you get that?”
“Attorney emailed me.”
Marcus closed his eyes.
Jordan’s voice sharpened.
“Why is my name on your failed property deal?”
“It shouldn’t be.”
“But it is.”
Marcus sat opposite him.
Jordan slid the paper forward.
“What account?”
Marcus said nothing.
Jordan’s heart began pounding.
“What account, Dad?”
Marcus looked toward the trophy.
Then back at Jordan.
“Your grandfather’s account.”
Jordan felt the answer physically.
“You used it.”
Marcus raised his hand.
“Listen.”
“How much?”
“I replaced most of it.”
“How much did you use?”
“Jordan—”
“How much?”
Marcus whispered, “Ten thousand.”
Jordan stared.
The room seemed completely silent.
“You took ten thousand dollars my grandfather left me.”
“I borrowed it.”
“You can’t borrow somebody’s money without asking.”
“You were sixteen.”
“I was still somebody.”
Marcus flinched.
Jordan pushed away from the table.
“When?”
“Two years ago.”
“For Ridgeway?”
“Yes.”
“And you lost it.”
Marcus swallowed.
“Yes.”
Jordan’s eyes filled.
“You told me the investment cost you twenty-two thousand.”
“It did.”
“You forgot the part where ten thousand wasn’t yours.”
“I’ve put seven thousand back.”
Jordan laughed in disbelief.
“So three thousand of my money is still missing?”
Marcus looked down.
“Yes.”
Jordan stood.
Marcus stood too.
“I was going to replace all of it before you turned eighteen.”
Jordan’s voice broke.
“That’s always your plan.”
Marcus stared.
“Fix it before I notice.”
The words struck them both.
Jordan picked up the championship trophy.
Marcus looked confused.
Jordan carried it toward the hallway closet.
“What are you doing?”
Jordan placed it inside.
Then closed the door.
Marcus stared.
Jordan turned.
“You don’t get to look at the thing you showed up too late for while I’m finding out how much else you took when I wasn’t looking.”
He walked upstairs.
Marcus remained alone.
A moment later his phone rang.
Attorney Denise Harper.
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Marcus stared at the name.
This time there was nowhere left to hide.
