Chapter 3 - The $240,000 Betrayal
My mother’s words stayed in the air.
“Vincent DeLuca is the reason your father disappeared…”
For several seconds, neither of us moved.
The hallway outside our apartment was silent.
The man with the folder was still standing behind the door.
Waiting.
But suddenly, he was no longer the thing that scared me.
Vincent’s name was.
I stepped away from the door.
“What did you just say?”
My mother looked like she wished she could take the words back.
“Emily…”
“No.”
My voice shook.
“You don’t get to do that.”
She looked at me.
“Do what?”
“Drop something like that and then act like I’m still a child who needs protection.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I was trying to protect you.”
“From what?”
She didn’t answer.
That hurt more than if she had screamed.
I walked toward the kitchen table and picked up my phone.
The photo was still there.
Tyler.
The documents.
My mother.
And now Vincent’s name.
Everything that had seemed impossible twenty minutes ago suddenly felt connected.
“Tell me what happened to Dad.”
My mother sat down slowly.
Her hands trembled.
“Your father was not the man you thought he was.”
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
“He made mistakes.”
“Everyone makes mistakes.”
She looked at me.
“Not everyone risks losing everything because of them.”
I stared at her.
My father had been gone for twelve years.
Growing up, I believed he had left because he couldn’t handle the pressure.
That was the story everyone gave me.
He left.
He disappeared.
He abandoned us.
I hated him for years because I thought he chose not to come back.
But now my mother was telling me there was something else.
Something hidden.
“What did Tyler have to do with Dad?”
Her face changed.
That was the second time that night I saw fear replace everything else.
“Tyler found the old documents.”
“What documents?”
“The ones your father left behind.”
I felt a chill.
“My father left something?”
She nodded.
“Something valuable.”
“What?”
She looked toward the locked door.
The man outside was still there.
Then she whispered:
“The property.”
I almost laughed.
“The house?”
“No.”
Her voice became softer.
“The land beneath it.”
I stopped.
Our house was old.
Small.
The kind of place wealthy people drove past without noticing.
My father bought it when I was a child because he said it was the one place where our family would always belong.
I never understood why he fought so hard to keep it.
I thought it was sentimental.
But now…
Maybe it was something else.
“What does Tyler know?”
My mother looked down.
“He knows enough.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“He knows the land is worth millions.”
The room felt smaller.
Millions.
The number didn’t even sound real.
“But why would he need my signature?”
My mother closed her eyes.
And that was when I understood.
He didn’t need my signature because he loved me.
He needed it because I was the legal owner after my father disappeared.
My stomach turned.
Tyler wasn’t helping me.
He was using me.
The memories came rushing back.
The night he offered to help with the mortgage.
The way he insisted on organizing my father’s old files.
The way he asked questions about inheritance.
I thought he cared.
I thought he was building a future with me.
But he was studying me.
Studying what I owned.
“Mom…”
She reached for my hand.
“I’m sorry.”
I pulled away.
Not because I didn’t love her.
Because I needed to think.
“How much did he take?”
She didn’t answer.
“How much money, Mom?”
Her silence told me everything.
I stood.
“The $240,000.”
Her eyes widened.
“You know?”
“I saw the receipt.”
She looked terrified.
“Emily, listen to me carefully.”
I waited.
“Tyler didn’t just take money.”
A cold feeling moved through my body.
“What did he do?”
“He used your name.”
I felt like the room tilted.
“What?”
“He created documents.”
“Fake documents?”
She nodded.
“Documents saying you agreed to transfer ownership rights.”
My breathing became shallow.
“That’s impossible.”
“It shouldn’t have been.”
“What does that mean?”
My mother looked at me.
“Your signature was already on them.”
I stared.
“No.”
“Emily…”
“No.”
I stepped back.
“I never signed anything transferring ownership.”
My mother looked away.
And that was when I knew.
There was something she wasn’t telling me.
“What?”
She stayed silent.
“What aren’t you saying?”
Her lips trembled.
“I signed something.”
The words hit harder than I expected.
“What?”
“Years ago.”
“When?”
“After your father disappeared.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“Why?”
“Because someone told me it was the only way to keep the house.”
“Who?”
She looked at me.
“Vincent.”
The name again.
Always Vincent.
I laughed quietly.
Not because it was funny.
Because nothing made sense anymore.
“So Vincent forced you?”
“No.”
Her answer came immediately.
Too quickly.
I noticed.
“You’re defending him.”
“I’m telling the truth.”
“Do you even know what the truth is anymore?”
That hurt her.
I saw it.
But I couldn’t stop.
My entire life had been built on missing pieces.
And now everyone wanted me to accept answers without questions.
A loud knock interrupted us.
The man outside.
Again.
“Ms. Carter.”
His voice was calm.
Professional.
“I know you are inside.”
My mother grabbed my arm.
“Do not open it.”
I looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because if Tyler sent him, it means he knows you found out.”
The phone in my hand buzzed.
Another message.
Unknown number.
I opened it.
A video.
My finger hovered over the screen.
Then I pressed play.
The footage was old.
Security camera footage.
My father’s house.
The date was twelve years ago.
I watched my father walk outside carrying a box.
Then another person appeared.
My heart stopped.
Because I recognized him.
Even after twelve years.
Even after everything.
Vincent DeLuca.
My father handed him the box.
They spoke.
But there was no audio.
Then my father looked directly at the camera.
Like he knew someone would watch this someday.
The video ended.
A new message appeared.
"Your father trusted the wrong person."
I looked at my mother.
She looked at my phone.
Then she whispered:
“He wasn’t supposed to have that video.”
The knocking stopped.
That was worse.
Because silence meant something had changed.
I slowly walked toward the window.
The street below was empty.
Too empty.
Then my phone rang.
Private number.
I answered.
No one spoke.
Only breathing.
“Hello?”
A voice finally came.
A man’s voice.
Older.
Weak.
But familiar.
“Emily…”
My entire body froze.
Nobody had called me that way in twelve years.
Not since the last night my father disappeared.
The voice continued.
“Your mother lied to you.”
I couldn’t breathe.
“Who is this?”
A pause.
Then:
“The man you thought abandoned you never left.”
The call ended.
At that exact moment, the apartment door handle started moving.
Slowly.
From the outside.
May you like
My mother grabbed my hand.
And the door unlocked by itself.
