Chapter 2 - The Empty Accounts
The bomb squad managed to defuse the explosive at my parents' house with only seconds to spare.
Detective Cole returned to my hospital room to tell me that my father was officially a heavily armed fugitive.
I sat in my hospital bed, trying to process the fact that my entire family wanted me dead.
Rebecca stayed by my side, pouring me a cup of water with shaking hands.
She told me that my father had suspected I knew about the affair, which was why he was so prepared to attack me.
I realized I needed to figure out how to survive on my own now that my parents were out of the picture.
I picked up my shattered phone and carefully opened my banking application to check my savings.
The screen loaded slowly, and my heart completely dropped into my stomach when the numbers finally appeared.
My checking account, my savings account, and my college fund had all been completely drained to zero.
Every single dollar I had ever earned was gone.
"He took everything," I whispered, showing the empty bank screens to Detective Cole.
The detective frowned and immediately pulled out his own phone to call the financial crimes division.
Within ten minutes, he received a highly classified report detailing my parents' recent financial transactions.
My father had not just stolen my money; he had transferred it into a massive offshore trust account.
But the detective looked incredibly confused as he read the rest of the financial report.
"The offshore account is not in your father's name," Detective Cole said quietly.
I asked him who could possibly own the account if my parents were the ones who stole the money.
He turned his phone around to show me the official banking document.
The account was registered under my own name, and it contained over two million dollars.
Someone had deposited a massive fortune into a secret account using my social security number.
Before I could ask any questions, my hospital room phone began to ring loudly.
I picked up the receiver and heard my father's heavy, raspy breathing on the other end of the line.
"You might have the money, but I have the one person you actually care about," my father growled.
I asked him what he was talking about, completely panicked by the pure malice in his voice.
"Look out your window," he instructed before the line went dead.
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I struggled out of bed and limped to the hospital window, looking down at the street below.
My father was standing next to a black van, holding a gun to the head of my best friend, Chloe.
