“I kind of Instagram-stalk you, so that wasn’t a question. This looks like Deya, right?” Gigi asked.

Liza took the phone and looked at an Instagram account called conscious_melanated_mind.

Then she heard LeDeya’s voice. “I’m tripling my money today! With my fifty-six thousand, I’ve invested in my future, and you can too.” The camera panned to three striking Black women all made up with distinct touches Liza recognized. “Contribute to the cause. Invest in yourself and watch your blessings triple!”

Liza’s heart drummed. Where had Deya gotten such a precise sum of fifty-six thousand dollars? If she added up the last time she’d made a deposit in Granny’s savings and her mother’s bank account . . .

Gigi nodded toward the phone. “Liza, Isaiah is there. I heard his voice.”

Liza’s knees went weak.

Deya had taken Bev’s and Granny’s savings and given them to WIC.

That girl.

It could ruin them.

Liza pressed the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger.

“Why is she even at an event like this? Isn’t she, like, fifteen?” Dorsey asked.

Shit.

Shit.

Shit.

Liza stomped her foot, then looked at another video on the same account. LeDeya was there again—makeup immaculate, silk scarf wrapped around her head.

“My mother taught me to be independent. Let’s build a community based on our principles. Donate now.”

“These people will never see their investments again,” Dorsey said.

“I think she has my granny’s and my mother’s savings. I . . . I think she invested it with WIC,” Liza whispered. A terrible thought flashed into her mind. “Have you known him to abuse women sexually as well?” Liza asked Gigi.

“No—well, at least not yet. He has one love, and it’s sports betting.”

Liza nodded. She had written that huge proposal and leveraged her social media followers to add credence to his cause. Now little LeDeya was in such a rush to be useful and important that she’d sold away her family’s life savings.

“How much did Deya take?” Dorsey asked.

“Fifty-six thousand.”

Dorsey and Gigi looked at each other. They had the in-sync mannerisms of twins. She could practically hear the unspoken so what.

“I know it’s vacation money to you, but my granny worked for fifty-three years to save that money up, and she has to live for the rest of her life on it.” She was trying not to be defensive, but their look made the money seem so trivial. Liza could feel panic hammering in her chest. “I need to get her,” Liza said. “Shit, Jersey is a four-and-a-half-hour drive, and I have no actual idea where she is.”

When had WIC gotten his hooks into Deya? How could she have been so self-centered as to leave her baby sister unprotected?