Chapter 4 - Their Backup Plan
The next morning, Denise made pancakes.
That was almost funny.
She stood at the stove in a pink robe, humming like she hadn’t destroyed my suit twelve hours earlier.
Sabrina arrived at eight.
She hugged her mother.
Then she saw me.
Her smile disappeared.
“Dad.”
I looked at her.
She corrected herself.
“Frank.”
That did it.
Not the theft.
Not the wedding.
Not Raymond.
That one word.
Frank.
For twenty-seven years, I had been Dad.
Now I was Frank because Raymond had returned with a smile, a nice jacket, and stories about how life had been “complicated.”
I poured coffee.
“Morning.”
She watched me carefully.
“Mom told you?”
“She told me.”
“I hope you understand.”
“I understand more than you think.”
Her face changed.
Just slightly.
I took a sip.
Then I smiled.
“Big day tomorrow.”
She relaxed again.
“Yeah.”
Denise put pancakes in front of her.
Sabrina talked about flowers.
Weather.
The photographer.
The seating chart.
Normal things.
Cruel things.
Because every ordinary sentence sat on top of a secret.
At 8:37, Denise’s phone buzzed.
She glanced at it.
Then at Sabrina.
Sabrina stood.
“I have to go meet a vendor.”
“What vendor?” I asked.
She hesitated.
“Flowers.”
I nodded.
“Hope they’re nice.”
She left.
Three minutes later, Denise went upstairs.
I went to the workshop.
Martin had sent me an address.
MIDLAND TITLE SERVICES.
I drove there in my old Ford truck.
Parked across the street.
Waited.
At 9:06, Sabrina arrived.
Not at a flower shop.
At the title company.
Raymond got out of the passenger seat.
He wore a gray suit.
Of course he did.
They went inside.
My hands tightened around the steering wheel.
I wanted to walk in.
Wanted to slam the fake loan document on the desk.
Wanted to ask Sabrina when exactly I stopped being her father and became something she could cash out.
But Martin’s warning stayed in my head.
Don’t warn them.
So I waited.
Twenty-four minutes later, Raymond came out alone.
He lit a cigarette.
Then made a call.
I cracked my truck window.
Couldn’t hear the words.
But I saw his expression.
Angry.
He kicked the curb.
Then Sabrina came out.
They argued.
She pointed toward the building.
Raymond threw up his hands.
Then he grabbed her wrist.
Hard.
My body moved before my brain did.
I opened the truck door.
Then stopped.
Sabrina yanked her arm free.
She shouted something.
Raymond stepped back.
A black SUV pulled up.
Denise was driving.
Sabrina got in.
They left.
Raymond stayed.
I watched him pace.
Then my phone rang.
Martin.
“Frank, where are you?”
“Across from Midland Title.”
“Go home.”
“What happened?”
“The lender rejected the loan.”
“Because of the trust?”
“Partly.”
“What’s the other part?”
“The application triggered an identity verification issue.”
I leaned forward.
“What issue?”
“Someone used your Social Security number on another loan request three months ago.”
I felt cold.
“For what?”
“A business line of credit.”
“How much?”
“Seventy-five thousand.”
“Did they get it?”
“Yes.”
My fingers went numb.
“Where is it?”
“Gone.”
“Who took it?”
“We’re tracing it.”
I stared across the street at Raymond.
He flicked his cigarette onto the sidewalk.
“Martin.”
“Yeah?”
“Raymond’s here.”
“Do not approach him.”
“He grabbed Sabrina.”
“Frank.”
“He put his hands on her.”
“I know you love her.”
That sentence almost broke me.
“I raised her.”
“I know.”
“Then don’t tell me to sit here.”
“I’m telling you not to destroy your legal position because a man wants you angry.”
I closed my eyes.
Raymond suddenly looked across the street.
Directly at my truck.
Our eyes met.
May you like
He smiled.
Then he started walking toward me.
