Chapter 3 - The Broken Pedestal
For the next two weeks, the silence from my parents was deafening. But behind the scenes, the legal war was expanding like wildfire.
With my knee recovering rapidly thanks to intensive daily physical therapy, I moved into a comfortable, secure apartment near Coronado with Jake. The lottery payout had cleared, providing us with a rock-solid financial fortress. But my real power wasn't just the two point four million dollars; it was the forensic audit Vance’s team was conducting on my father’s life.
What we discovered was far worse than simple greed.
Arthur Reed was a fraud. Reed Logistics had been losing money for over three years due to his terrible real estate investments and reckless spending on my mother’s and Madison’s lavish lifestyles. To keep the company afloat, Arthur hadn't just stolen my three hundred thousand dollar trust; he had systematically drained Jake’s trust as well, along with taking out fraudulent loans using his employees' pension accounts as collateral.
He was a house of cards waiting for a light breeze. And I was about to summon a hurricane.
“He’s desperate,” Vance told me during a meeting at his office. “He tried to take out a high-interest hard money loan from a private lender in Las Vegas yesterday to cover his payroll. But because we filed the lis pendens, no legitimate lender will touch him.”
“What about Madison?” I asked.
“Your sister is finding out what reality looks like,” Vance smirked slightly. “Her university tuition was returned unpaid yesterday due to the frozen accounts. She was forced to leave her sorority house because her dues bounced.”
Just as Vance finished speaking, my phone rang. It was an unknown number, but I recognized the area code—it was from the local police station near my parents’ gated community.
I answered it. “Hello?”
“Emily! Oh my god, Emily, you have to help me!”
It was Madison. Her voice was hysterical, stripped of all its usual arrogance and cruel indifference.
“Madison?” I said coolly.
“Emily, please! They’re holding me at the precinct!” she sobbed into the receiver. “I was at the boutique in Beverly Hills trying to return some bags to get cash, but the manager said the credit cards father gave me were flagged for bank fraud! They called the police! They think I’m part of some theft ring!”
I sat back in my chair, feeling no pity, only a grim sense of irony. “Where is Dad?”
“He won't answer his phone!” she wailed. “Mom is at home crying because the security guards at the gate won't let her caterers in for her charity lunch! Emily, please, you have money now—the news said you won the lottery! Please come pay my bail! It’s only twenty-five hundred dollars!”
Twenty-five hundred dollars. Half of what I had needed to keep my leg from being permanently crippled.
“Take some Advil, Madison,” I said softly.
“What?! Emily, are you insane?! I’m in a holding cell!”
“You told me to take Advil when I was sitting in a military clinic facing permanent disability,” I reminded her, every word icy and deliberate. “You told me to stop ruining your party. So now I’m giving you the exact same medical advice you gave me.”
“Emily, wait! You can’t do this to your own sister! We’re blood!”
“Blood didn't stop you from laughing while Dad used my stolen trust fund to buy your yacht,” I said. “Call Dad. Oh, wait—he’s busy trying to avoid federal prison.”
I ended the call and blocked the number.
Vance watched me, an approving nod in his eyes. “That was cold, Lieutenant.”
“No,” I said, looking out the window toward the ocean. “That was justice. Now, let's talk about the mortgage on my parents' house.”
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“The mansion in La Jolla?” Vance pulled up a file. “The note is held by Pacific First Bank. Due to Arthur’s default on his commercial line of credit last week, the bank has accelerated the balloon payment clause on the residential mortgage. They are preparing to initiate foreclosure proceedings.”
“Don't let them foreclose,” I said, leaning forward. “Buy the debt directly from the bank. I want to become my parents’ landlord.”
