Chapter 4 - The Predator Returns
Before Linda could answer, the sound of gravel crunching under heavy tires echoed from the front yard. Headlights swept through the dark living room, painting the walls in long, violent streaks of yellow light. A car door slammed with a heavy, metallic thud, followed by the sound of boots hurrying up the wooden steps of the porch.
The front door burst open, and Tyler walked in, holding a portable LED lantern that flooded the space with a harsh, clinical white glare. He was wearing an expensive designer jacket, but his face was slick with sweat, his eyes wide and bloodshot.
"Mom!" Tyler yelled, not seeing me standing in the shadow of the hallway. "The Apex portal just sent a rejection notice. They said the credit profile is locked by an external security freeze. Did Maya call you? Did she do something to the accounts?"
"She’s right here, Tyler," Linda said, her voice dropping into a flat, exhausted whisper.
Tyler froze, the lantern swinging slightly in his hand until the white beam hit my face. He blinked, his easy-going, golden-boy expression vanishing in a fraction of a second, replaced by a defensive, animalistic snarl.
"Maya," he said, taking a step toward me, his chest expanding. "What the hell are you doing here? You walked out on this family. You left Mom in the dark without a cent to buy groceries, and now you’re coming back here in the middle of the night to play detective?"
"I’m here to collect my property, Tyler," I said, holding up the manila folder and my phone, which was currently displaying the screen interface of the fraud department at Apex Capital. "And I’m here to tell you that the freeze isn't temporary. I’ve already submitted the affidavit of identity theft to the credit bureaus. By 9:00 AM tomorrow, the bank's internal fraud unit will have the IP logs pointing directly to this house."
Tyler’s face turned an ugly, mottled purple. He set the lantern down on the table with a force that cracked its plastic base. "You think you’re so smart with your corporate spreadsheets, don't you? You think because you’ve been paying the bills, you own this family? Dad wanted me to run things. I’m the oldest son. I’m the one who carries the Vance name."
"You carry a casino reward card and a repossessed truck contract, Tyler," I said, stepping closer to him, completely unfazed by his size. "You stole Dad’s equipment. You stole Owen’s medical fund. And then you tried to sign my name to a twenty-five-thousand-dollar debt because you were too proud to admit to Mom that you’ve been broke since last summer."
"It was a bridge loan!" Tyler screamed, his hand slamming into the wall beside the kitchen doorway, leaving a dent in the drywall. "I had a contract coming through next month! A construction supply deal! I just needed to clear the default notice on the house so Mom wouldn't find out!"
"She knows now," I said, gesturing toward Linda, who sat on the sofa, her face buried in her hands, her shoulders shaking with silent, rhythmic sobs. She wasn't crying for me, and she wasn't crying for Owen. She was crying because the illusion of her successful, perfect first-born son had been permanently shattered in front of her.
May you like
"Get out of my house," Tyler whispered, stepping into my personal space, his breath smelling of cheap whiskey and mints. "Get out before I make you get out."
"It's not your house, Tyler," I said, pulling a single sheet of paper from the folder—the original deed transfer my father had executed six months before his death. "Dad didn't leave the property to Mom, and he didn't leave it to you. He placed it in the Vance Estate Holding LLC, and according to the corporate charter... I am the managing director. You have forty-eight hours to pack your things, or the sheriff won't just be here for the identity theft—he’ll be here for the eviction."
