Chapter 7 - The Voice in the Night-7
At 2:15 a.m., my secure phone on the study desk began to ring.
Gabriel Vance, who was sitting across the room monitoring a bank of digital surveillance screens, looked up instantly. “That’s the private line Daniel has saved in his contacts.”
I picked up the phone, pressing the speaker button while Gabriel tapped his screen to begin recording the call.
“Hello, Daniel,” I said, my voice completely devoid of emotion.
On the other end of the line, I heard the sound of heavy, ragged breathing, followed by a wet, pathetic sob.
“Evelyn...” Daniel gasped, his voice raspy and trembling with sheer terror. “Evelyn, please... please don't hang up! I’m begging you! You have to help me!”
I looked at Gabriel, who gave me a calm, encouraging nod.
“Why are you calling me, Daniel?” I asked coolly. “You were served with a restraining order. Calling me is a violation of federal court orders.”
“I don't care about the order!” Daniel cried out, his voice cracking with hysteria. “Evelyn, they’re going to kill me! Julian Croft is here! He’s got his men in my room! They threatened to hurt my mother!”
“Your debts are your own responsibility, Daniel,” I replied smoothly. “You forged my signature, you stole four hundred thousand dollars from my accounts, and you pledged my house to a criminal syndicate. You made your bed.”
“I was doing it for us!” Daniel lied desperately, his voice echoing through the speaker. “I was trying to invest the money to make us richer! I wanted to build an empire for us, Evelyn! Please... Croft said if I bring him the title deeds to the house, he’ll clear the debt and leave us alone! Just meet me tomorrow at the old dock warehouse on the river! Bring the original trust documents! Just give them to him so we can survive this!”
I let out a low, bitter laugh. “You want me to sign over my father’s estate to a loan shark so you can avoid the consequences of your own greed?”
“Evelyn, please!” Daniel wept hysterically. “He’s going to kill my mother! Have some mercy! You used to love me! For six years, I took care of you! I gave you everything!”
“You gave me a sore jaw, Daniel,” I snapped, my voice cutting through his lies like a diamond blade. “You gave me six years of psychological abuse, humiliation, and theft. You never loved me. You loved my father’s money.”
There was a sudden shuffling sound on the other end of the line, followed by the deep, cold voice of Julian Croft taking over the phone.
“Mrs. Vance,” Croft said smoothly. “I see your husband’s pathetic performance isn't moving your heart. Allow me to make a more direct proposition.”
“I’m listening, Mr. Croft,” I said, my voice unwavering.
“I know you have a military security team at your house,” Croft acknowledged, his tone dripping with cold respect. “My three enforcers haven't checked in, which tells me you’re far better protected than Daniel led me to believe. But here is the reality: I hold two point two million dollars in promissory notes signed by your husband, secured by forged land declarations bearing your family trust’s seal.”
“A forged document is legally void, Mr. Croft,” I reminded him.
“In a court of law, yes,” Croft agreed with a quiet laugh. “But we aren't in a court of law, Mrs. Vance. If you refuse to negotiate, I will release six years of internal financial records, offshore wire transfers, and stolen banking data to every tabloid and federal tax investigator in the country. It will tie up your family’s trust in legal freezes and tax fraud audits for the next decade. You will spend millions just defending your father’s name.”
I felt my jaw clench. Croft was smart. He knew that while he couldn't win a legal battle for the house, he could inflict immense damage on my family’s reputation and freeze my financial assets indefinitely.
“What do you want, Croft?” I asked directly.
“A simple transaction,” Croft said. “Tomorrow at noon, at Warehouse 14 on the East Nashville docks. You bring the original 2018 trust deed and a certified bank draft for one million dollars—half of what your husband owes me. In exchange, I surrender every forged document, every promissory note, and I hand Daniel and his mother over to the police with full written confessions regarding their fraud.”
I looked at Gabriel.
Gabriel slowly reached out, taking a red marker, and wrote a single word on his notepad: AGREE.
“One million dollars,” I said into the phone. “And you deliver Daniel, Gloria, and every original document to the warehouse.”
“A pleasure doing business with a sensible woman, Mrs. Vance,” Croft chuckled. “No police, no security guards. If I see a single patrol car near the docks, the deal is off—and your father’s legacy goes up in flames.”
The line went dead.
May you like
I set the phone down, leaning back in my chair. “He thinks he’s setting a trap.”
Gabriel smiled—a dark, lethal smile that illuminated his steel-gray eyes. “He is setting a trap. But he doesn't realize that we’re bringing the entire cage.”
