Chapter 5 - The Debt Hidden Under My NameI didn't speak for several seconds.

Mom continued crying on the other end.

"What do you mean, my company?"

"Your business was listed as a supporting entity."

"Supporting what?"

"The financing."

My fingers tightened around the phone.

"I never authorized that."

"I know."

"How did you sign anything?"

"I didn't sign for you."

Her answer made no sense.

"Then how?"

She whispered, "Your father used your old documents."

My mind jumped back through the years.

Tax returns.

Insurance forms.

Business licenses.

Invoices.

Bank applications.

Anything my parents might have had access to.

"Which documents?"

"I don't know."

"Mom, tell me everything."

"I can't over the phone."

"Then meet me."

She agreed.

Two hours later, she arrived at a coffee shop wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap.

Mom had never worn a baseball cap in public.

That alone told me how frightened she was.

She sat across from me.

Margot sat beside me.

Mom looked at her.

"You're the lawyer?"

"Yes."

Mom nodded.

"Good."

Then she placed an envelope on the table.

"I should have given this to you years ago."

I opened it.

Inside was a photocopy of a letter addressed to my father.

It was from a man named Charles Vale.

I didn't know him.

But Margot did.

Her expression changed immediately.

"Private lender."

She read the letter.

Then looked at me.

"This is a demand for payment."

Mom nodded.

"Charles Vale financed the expansion."

"When?"

"Last year."

"What does he have to do with my company?"

Mom looked down.

"Your father told him your company was part of the family business group."

I stared.

"But it isn't."

"I know."

"He lied."

She nodded.

"Why didn't you stop him?"

The tears returned.

"Because he told me the bank would seize everything."

I could barely breathe.

"Everything?"

"The catering company. The building. The vehicles. Our house."

"Mom."

"He said Grant had investors coming."

"He doesn't."

"Not anymore."

I leaned back.

"What happened at the party?"

She looked at me.

"Your father received a phone call after you called."

"From who?"

"Charles Vale."

"Why?"

"He wants his money."

Margot opened her laptop.

"How much?"

Mom whispered:

"Two point two million."

The same amount as the loan against the property.

I stared at Margot.

"How did they get that much?"

She typed rapidly.

Then she stopped.

"Because the collateral package lists Harbor Eight."

My chest tightened.

"They borrowed against my building."

"Yes."

"Without owning it."

"Yes."

I looked at Mom.

"Why would Dad risk prison for this?"

She said something that made my stomach drop.

"He thought you would save him."

"Why?"

"Because he knew how you were."

I frowned.

"He knew you'd never let your family lose everything."

For years, they had treated my kindness as weakness.

They had mistaken my silence for surrender.

My mother reached across the table.

"I am sorry."

I pulled my hand away.

"Not yet."

She flinched.

"Not until you tell me the entire truth."

Mom closed her eyes.

"Your father planned the anniversary party as a pressure meeting."

"Pressure for what?"

"For you to sign over the property."

I felt my jaw tighten.

"Publicly?"

"Yes."

"He wanted two hundred and forty witnesses."

"So you couldn't say no."

Margot looked at me.

"And the slideshow?"

Mom swallowed.

"To make you emotional."

I stared at her.

"Why?"

"If you were humiliated first, your father thought you'd be more likely to agree to his terms."

I laughed bitterly.

"So the entire party was a trap."

Mom nodded.

"He was going to ask you to sign a family restructuring agreement."

"What would it do?"

"It would transfer control of Harbor Eight into Holloway Legacy Holdings."

"And I would get?"

"A percentage."

"How much?"

"Five percent."

Margot muttered a curse.

I stared at my mother.

"Five?"

"He said you wouldn't need more."

I stood.

Mom grabbed my wrist.

"Hazel, please."

I pulled free.

"How long?"

"What?"

"How long have you known this was happening?"

She looked down.

"Six months."

That hurt more than the forged signature.

Six months.

She had hugged me.

Invited me to the anniversary.

Asked me what dress I was wearing.

All while knowing they were preparing to steal my property.

I walked outside.

Margot followed.

"Don't make any decisions while you're angry."

"I'm not angry."

She gave me a look.

"I'm furious."

"Fair."

I looked at the parking lot.

Then I noticed a black SUV parked across the street.

It had been there when Mom arrived.

Now it was still there.

Tinted windows.

Engine running.

Margot followed my gaze.

"Friend of your mother's?"

Mom rushed out of the café.

Her face had gone white.

"Don't look at it."

I stared at her.

"Why?"

"Because I think your father had someone following me."

The SUV moved.

Then stopped at the next intersection.

Margot stepped closer.

"Hazel."

"What?"

"Do not go home tonight."

"Why?"

She pointed at my phone.

An unknown number had just sent me a photograph.

It was a picture of me leaving my house that morning.

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Underneath it were six words.

Your father wants his building back.