Chapter 4 - THE MAN WHO KNEW EVERYTHINGDad pushed me behind him.
The footsteps stopped.
A man appeared at the bottom of the stairs.
Late forties.
Black coat.
Calm expression.
He looked at me.
Then at the open files.
“That's unfortunate.”
Dad stepped forward.
“Who are you?”
The man smiled.
“Someone who has been waiting for Taylor to come home.”
I felt a chill.
“How do you know my name?”
He ignored the question.
“You shouldn't have opened that cabinet.”
I picked up the folder.
“Did you create this?”
“No.”
“Then who did?”
He looked at my father.
“Your father knows.”
Dad's face hardened.
“I have never seen you.”
The man laughed quietly.
“You've seen me many times.”
Dad went still.
The stranger stepped closer.
“I was at your daughter's graduation.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“I was outside when she received her trophy.”
My stomach turned.
The trophy.
The day everything changed.
“You were there?”
He nodded.
“I watched you.”
My hands shook.
“Why?”
“Because that was the moment you became useful.”
Dad grabbed him.
“What did you do to my daughter?”
The man shoved him away.
“You did far worse.”
Dad stumbled backward.
I looked between them.
“What does that mean?”
The man reached inside his coat.
Dad shouted,
“Taylor, run!”
But the man pulled out a photograph.
He held it toward me.
It was me at sixteen.
Standing in front of the house.
Next to my father.
On the back:
INITIAL CONTACT COMPLETE.
I stared at Dad.
“Dad?”
He looked terrified.
Not angry.
Terrified.
“I don't remember this.”
The stranger smiled.
“Of course you don't.”
I froze.
“What?”
He reached into his pocket again.
This time he pulled out a small digital recorder.
He pressed play.
My father's voice filled the room.
“You're sure this will work?”
Then another man's voice answered.
“Yes.”
My father's voice again.
“And Taylor?”
“She'll never know.”
The recording ended.
I stared at him.
Dad shook his head.
“That isn't what it sounds like.”
“It sounds exactly like you.”
“I was manipulated.”
The stranger laughed.
“You're still lying.”
He walked toward me.
“Three years ago, when you left, your family believed you had finally disappeared.”
I said nothing.
“But you weren't the only one who disappeared.”
“What do you mean?”
He pointed to my father's profile.
“Your father has been missing money for years.”
Dad said nothing.
The stranger continued.
“He borrowed against your future earnings.”
My eyes widened.
“How much?”
“More than you can imagine.”
Dad looked down.
“Dad?”
He remained silent.
“How much?”
Finally, he whispered,
“Eighty-seven thousand.”
My entire body went numb.
“That account?”
“No.”
“Then where?”
He looked at me.
“Loans.”
I stared.
“You took out loans using my name?”
The stranger interrupted.
“Not just loans.”
He handed me a file.
Inside were contracts.
My signature.
My social security number.
My employment history.
Everything.
I stared at the bottom of the latest document.
The signature looked perfect.
But it wasn't mine.
I looked at Dad.
“You did this.”
He shook his head.
“I thought I was protecting the family.”
“From what?”
The stranger answered for him.
“From us.”
Silence.
Then the man's phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed.
He looked directly at me.
“They found out you're here.”
“Who?”
He hung up.
Then he said,
“You need to leave this house.”
“Why?”
“Because your mother wasn't the one who found the bank statements.”
I frowned.
“What?”
He pointed upstairs.
“Someone wanted her to find them.”
Dad's face went pale.
“Why?”
The man smiled.
“To make sure Taylor came home.”
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A second later, every light in the basement went out.
And somewhere above us, glass shattered.
