Chapter 2 - The Brass Key
The drive to the downtown bank was a blur of rain and anxiety.
Mr. Vance kept checking his rearview mirror, paranoid that we were being followed.
"Your father has accumulated over a million dollars in debt," Mr. Vance explained.
"He owes money to people who do not take kindly to missed payments."
I felt sick to my stomach.
I knew my father was bad with money, but I had no idea the situation was this dangerous.
We pulled into the underground parking garage of the First National Bank.
The vault manager checked our credentials and led us into a windowless steel room.
I inserted the brass key into box number 402, and Mr. Vance turned the master key.
Inside was a stack of property deeds and a thick leather ledger.
I pulled the ledger out and opened it to the first page.
It was a detailed record of every single dollar my father had stolen from my grandmother over the past twenty years.
But it was the document tucked inside the back cover that made my blood run cold.
It was a loan agreement for five hundred thousand dollars, borrowed from a private, unregulated lending company.
The signature at the bottom belonged to John.
But right below it, listed as the primary guarantor, was my signature.
"I never signed this," I gasped, dropping the paper on the table.
"He forged your name, Maya," Mr. Vance said grimly.
"If he doesn't get the estate money to pay this off, the lenders will come after you legally and physically."
I realized my father wasn't just angry about losing his inheritance.
He was desperate to save his own life by sacrificing mine.
Suddenly, my phone buzzed in my pocket.
It was a text from an unknown number.
It was a picture of Mr. Vance's car parked in the underground garage, taken just seconds ago.
May you like
The next message made the breath leave my lungs.
"Bring the ledger outside, or we come down there and take it."
