"It's about your mother," Dell said. "And Cartwright."
Elijah's heart skipped a beat. "What about them?"
Dell took a labored breath. "Your mother wasn't just any pianist, Elijah. Before you were born, she was making a name for herself in the local music scene. Real talent, just like you." His eyes grew distant with memory. "She was offered a teaching position at Lincoln Heights. This was before Cartwright was principal, when I was just starting out."
Alicia and Elijah exchanged a surprised glance as Dell continued: "But right before she was to start, there was an incident: money missing from the music department fund. A substantial amount." His voice grew bitter. "Cartwright was the assistant principal then. He led the investigation, and somehow all evidence pointed to your mother."
"That's impossible!" Elijah protested. "She would never!"
"Of course not," Dell agreed. "But the evidence was convincing enough. She lost the position, and her reputation was damaged. Her performing career suffered. She never fully recovered professionally."
Elijah struggled to process this new information. "Why didn't you tell me this before?"
"Because I couldn't prove anything," Dell admitted. "I had suspicions, but no evidence. And after she died..." He trailed off, looking genuinely remorseful. "I should have told you sooner. I'm sorry."
The revelation added new depth to Cartwright's animosity: it wasn't just about Elijah; it was about his mother, too—a connection Elijah had never suspected.
As they left the hospital, Elijah was quiet, lost in thought. Alicia walked beside him, respecting his silence until they reached the bus stop.
"Are you okay?" she finally asked.
"I don't know," Elijah admitted. "It's like finding a missing puzzle piece, but now the whole picture looks different."
Back at his apartment, Elijah found his grandmother sitting at the kitchen table with a worried expression.
"What's wrong?" he asked immediately.
She held up an official-looking letter. "Eviction notice. They say we're three months behind on rent."