Chapter 4 - The Private Vault
The masked thugs immediately dropped their weapons and raised their hands into the air.
Marcus tried to run toward the back exit, but two heavily armed tactical officers tackled him to the concrete floor.
A detective walked over to my chair, pulled out a sharp knife, and cut the remaining plastic ties from my ankles.
He asked me if I was alright, and I nodded slowly, rubbing the raw, bleeding skin on my wrists.
I recognized the detective immediately as an old childhood friend of my father, a man who had visited him during his final days in the hospital.
The detective whispered that my father had paid him a very large sum of money to keep a close eye on me after the funeral.
He handed me my backpack and told me to get out of the warehouse before the official police report had to be filed.
I did not waste a single second, slipping out through the side door while Marcus screamed curses at the arresting officers.
I caught a taxi on the main avenue and told the driver to take me directly to the downtown financial district.
The morning sun was just beginning to rise over the skyscrapers, casting long golden shadows across the empty streets.
I walked into the massive, marble-lined lobby of the elite private depository bank mentioned in the ledger.
A stern security guard asked for my identification, and I handed him my driver's license along with the heavy iron key.
The guard's entire demeanor changed instantly from suspicion to absolute, unwavering respect.
He escorted me to a private elevator that descended deep into the subterranean levels of the building.
We entered a climate-controlled room lined with thousands of polished steel safety deposit boxes.
The guard directed me to a massive, oversized vault box at the very end of the secure corridor.
He inserted his master key into the left keyhole, and I inserted my father's iron key into the right.
We turned them simultaneously, and the heavy steel door popped open with a deeply satisfying mechanical click.
The guard bowed slightly and left me alone in the silent, secure room.
I pulled the heavy metal drawer out and placed it carefully onto the velvet viewing table.
Inside the box lay dozens of heavy, pure gold bars, gleaming brilliantly in the soft overhead light.
Next to the gold was a thick stack of certified bearer bonds, completely untraceable and ready to be cashed.
But resting on top of the fortune was a sealed manila envelope with my name written in my father's neat handwriting.
I tore the envelope open and pulled out a freshly certified legal document with a heavy notary seal.
It was my father's true, final will and testament, completely revoking all previous documents held by my greedy family.
The will explicitly stated that I was to inherit absolutely every single asset, property, and penny to his name.
I felt a massive wave of relief wash over me, knowing that justice was finally within my grasp.
But as I read the final paragraph of the document, the blood ran completely cold in my veins.
The clause stated that this will was only valid if filed in probate court within exactly forty-five days of his death.
I looked at the calendar on the bank wall, realizing with absolute horror that today was day forty-four.
If I did not get this document to the courthouse by tomorrow afternoon, Daniel and Rachel would keep everything.
May you like
I shoved the will into my backpack, locked the vault, and turned around to sprint out of the bank.
Standing directly in the doorway of the secure viewing room was my mother, holding a small silver pistol aimed right at my chest.
