Chapter 4 - THE BLACKMAIL AT THE FIRM
I drove back to my house like a madman, my knuckles white on the steering wheel.
When I burst through the front door, Amy was pacing the living room, Frederick resting on her hip. She handed me the manila envelope.
I read the foreclosure notice. It was real. It wasn't for a missed mortgage payment—it was a default notice on a massive secondary loan taken out against the equity of the house. The signature on the loan application was mine. Another forgery.
“How did they do this?” Amy asked, her voice shaking with quiet anger. She was no longer just terrified; she was furious. “How could your mother take out a loan on our house without the bank verifying it with you?”
“Because she had help,” I said, pulling the printed email from my jacket pocket. “Amy, look at this. I found this in a safety deposit box my mother opened in my name.”
Amy read the email. Her eyes widened. “John Vance? Your boss? Why would your boss help your mother steal from us?”
“That’s exactly what I’m going to find out,” I said.
I kissed Amy’s forehead and kissed my son. “Keep the doors locked. Don’t open it for anyone. Not even the police unless you call 911 to verify they sent a car.”
Twenty minutes later, I walked into the glass-walled offices of Vance Construction & Engineering.
I didn't stop at my cubicle. I marched straight past the receptionist and kicked the heavy oak door of John Vance’s private office open.
John, a man in his late fifties wearing a sharp tailored suit, jumped up from his leather chair.
“Connor! What the hell are you doing?” he barked, adjusting his glasses. “You didn't show up for shift today! We have concrete pouring at the downtown site!”
I slammed the heavy gold pocket watch onto his glass desk. The metal cracked the surface with a loud snap.
John looked at the watch, and all the color drained from his face.
“You recognize it, don’t you?” I asked, stepping closer to his desk. I threw the printed email down next to the watch. “I know everything, John. I know you helped my mother take out a secondary loan on my house. I know you’ve been forcing me into overtime to keep me away from my family while she drained my credit.”
John backed away, his arrogant posture crumbling. “Connor, listen to me. You don't understand what you’re dealing with.”
“I understand that you’re going to prison,” I said coldly.
“I didn't want to do it!” John pleaded, lowering his voice and looking nervously toward his office blinds. “Your mother... she’s not the one running this, Connor. She’s just a pawn.”
I frowned. “What are you talking about?”
John dropped into his chair, rubbing his face with shaking hands. “Five years ago, your mother got involved in illegal gambling. She lost everything. She owed money to some very bad people. She came to me because she knew I had access to the firm’s financial records. She asked me to help her forge income statements so she could take out credit cards in your name to pay off the debt.”
“And you just agreed to help her commit felonies?” I demanded.
“No! I refused!” John yelled, a desperate edge to his voice. “But then your cousin Mason got involved. Mason isn't just a failed real estate agent, Connor. He works for the loan sharks your mother owes. Mason found out that I had been embezzling money from the construction firm’s supply budget. He blackmailed me. He told me if I didn't approve the false income verifications for your mother’s loans, he would expose my embezzlement to the board of directors.”
I stared at him, disgusted. My entire life had been manipulated by cowards and thieves trying to save their own skins.
“Where did the money from the secondary home loan go?” I asked.
“To Mason,” John admitted, staring at his desk. “Your mother signed the equity over to Mason’s front company to finally clear her gambling debt. If you don't drop the police charges against Mason, his bosses will execute the foreclosure on your house by Friday.”
“I’m not dropping anything,” I said. “I’m taking this email and your confession to the district attorney.”
I turned to leave, but John stood up quickly.
“Connor, wait! You can't go to the police with that!” John said, his voice laced with real panic. “If you expose Mason’s bosses, they won't just take your house. They will come after your wife and your son!”
I stopped at the door. I looked back at the man I had trusted as a mentor for six years.
“Let them try,” I said.
I walked out of the office. But as I reached the elevator, my phone rang.
It was the Nashville Police Department.
“Mr. Bradley,” the detective said, his voice flat. “We have a problem. Your mother and your cousin made bail an hour ago. The judge released them pending trial.”
My heart stopped. “How? Who posted their bail?”
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“A private bondsman paid in cash,” the detective said. “We’re sending a patrol car to your house now to keep an eye on things, but you need to be careful.”
I hung up the phone and sprinted for my car. They were out. And they knew I had the evidence to put them away forever.
