Chapter 4 - MY NIECE
I called Melisande’s ex-husband.
Not because I wanted to drag another adult into war.
Because he was my niece’s father.
Aaron Blake.
They had divorced three years earlier.
Shared custody.
I had always assumed their relationship was tense but functional.
His first response:
“She did what?”
I explained carefully.
No theory.
Only facts.
Then I sent the preserved video through Naomi after Aaron agreed not to distribute it.
He watched.
Long silence.
“Lucasta.”
“Yes?”
“This isn’t the first time.”
My stomach dropped.
“What isn’t?”
“She’s been turning school into a competition for two years.”
That alone was not shocking.
Melisande had always been status-conscious.
Aaron continued.
“She made our daughter retake a first-grade reading assessment because another kid scored higher.”
“What?”
“She told me it was optional practice. It wasn’t.”
“Why didn’t you stop it?”
“I tried.”
There was shame in his voice.
Good.
Useful shame.
Not self-pity.
Then he said:
“Our daughter told me some of the awards at Melisande’s house weren’t hers.”
I stood.
“How many?”
“I don’t know.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“She wouldn’t say whose.”
He had photographed them months earlier because he thought the display looked strange.
He sent me the pictures.
My missing items were there.
Ivo’s reading ribbon.
Art certificate.
Science sticker sheet.
Not displayed under his name.
The certificate had been placed in a frame where the name section was covered by a decorative mat.
The ribbon had no name.
Stickers never did.
Plausible deniability.
Then another item.
A small paper badge.
SAFE STREETS JUNIOR DESIGNER.
I had never seen it.
Mrs. Grant confirmed Ivo received one at a classroom workshop in November.
He had told me he lost it.
Aaron whispered:
“I think my daughter tried to give some things back and Melisande stopped her.”
That matched the photo.
We agreed on one rule immediately:
No questioning the children against each other.
School professionals would handle authorship.
Aaron would ask for a child counselor.
My niece was not a suspect.
She was seven.
Then he told me about Alden Academy.
Tuition:
$42,000 a year.
Melisande could afford some.
Not comfortably.
Aaron had refused to pay half because he preferred their daughter’s current school.
“How was Melisande planning to cover it?”
“She told me she secured a merit package.”
“Does Alden give merit scholarships to second-graders?”
“Not exactly.”
Interesting.
Alden had donor-supported “Young Scholar Fellowships.”
Need-based and achievement-informed.
Awards up to $25,000 annually.
Not full tuition.
Melisande told family her daughter had practically won one.
Had she?
Unknown.
Then Aaron said something stranger.
“She also told me Grandmother’s education fund would cover the rest.”
Our grandmother had died five years earlier.
She did create a family education trust.
I knew about it.
Not huge.
Roughly $3.8 million spread across descendants for approved tuition and educational costs.
No competitive award required.
Each branch had caps.
Why would Melisande need Ivo’s achievements to access her daughter’s share?
Maybe she didn’t.
Maybe the money was irrelevant.
Good.
Do not force every mystery into finance.
Naomi requested the trust rules anyway.
That evening my mother called.
She sounded furious.
Not at Melisande.
At me.
“You called Aaron?”
“Yes.”
“You’re tearing the family apart.”
I stared at the phone.
“Melisande pushed Ivo out of his chair.”
“She lost her temper.”
“She has his awards in her house.”
“She’s always been competitive.”
“She threatened to accuse him of stealing.”
Mom went quiet.
Then:
“You don’t understand what she has at stake.”
There.
“What?”
Another silence.
“Mom.”
“She has made promises.”
“To whom?”
“I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“Promises about what?”
The call ended.
No answer.
The next morning Naomi received the family education trust statement.
Melisande’s branch had used far more than normal tuition.
A $180,000 distribution six months earlier.
Purpose:
Alden Academy educational commitment and endowed fellowship participation.
May you like
Alden had not even admitted my niece yet.
Whatever Melisande had promised, she had already spent family money on it.
