Chapter 2 - The Stolen Identity
I stared at the name on the paper, unable to process what I was seeing.
I looked at Daniel, whose face had gone completely pale.
He snatched the paperwork from my hands and read it for himself.
He swore to me that he had absolutely no idea what this was about.
I believed him, but the panic in my chest was suffocating.
Diane stood on the porch with a smug, victorious smile on her face.
She explained that Megan’s husband, Greg, had stolen Daniel’s social security number months ago.
Greg had secretly taken out a massive, illegal loan using Daniel’s stolen identity.
They had used my grandmother’s house as collateral to secure the dirty money.
If I didn't sign the deed to clear the title, the lenders would come to collect.
I asked Diane why she was punishing me for Greg's criminal behavior.
She screamed that she was trying to protect her family.
She said Megan deserved a good life, and I was just being selfish.
The hypocrisy of her words made me sick to my stomach.
She had called me a leech just hours ago, yet she was actively stealing my inheritance.
Daniel crumbled the quitclaim deed in his fist.
He told Diane that he was going to the FBI in the morning to report the identity theft.
He said Greg could rot in federal prison for what he had done.
Diane laughed, a sharp, bitter sound that echoed down the quiet street.
She told Daniel that he wouldn't make it to the FBI office in the morning.
She said the people Greg borrowed money from were not the kind of people who involved the law.
They were ruthless, violent men who only cared about getting their cash or the property.
I told Diane to get off my porch and never come back.
I promised her that I would fight her in every court in the country.
Diane finally turned around and began walking down the driveway.
She stopped at the end of the concrete path and looked back at us.
She warned us that the loan sharks weren't coming for Greg at all.
Because Daniel’s name was on the paperwork, they thought Daniel was the one who stole their money.
A pair of bright headlights suddenly clicked on from a dark sedan parked across the street.
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The engine roared to life, and the heavy vehicle slowly rolled toward our driveway.
The window rolled down, revealing a man with a scarred face holding a suppressed pistol.
