Chapter 6 - THE POLICY
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
I finally said, “What life insurance?”
Mom started sobbing harder.
“Hannah, I swear I didn't understand everything.”
“Stop crying and answer me.”
“When you opened Morning Finch, your father convinced you to sign some business protection documents.”
I remembered.
Seven years earlier.
Dad had told me every small business owner needed emergency coverage.
He brought paperwork to the bakery.
I signed where he pointed.
“You mean the disability policy?”
“No.”
My stomach dropped.
Ruiz motioned for me to put the call on speaker.
I did.
Mom continued.
“There was another policy.”
“How much?”
“A million dollars.”
Jasmine stared at me.
“Who is the beneficiary?”
Mom didn't answer.
I already knew.
“Silver Pine?”
“No.”
“Then who?”
“Your father.”
The room tilted.
I gripped the edge of Martin’s desk.
“You let him take out a million-dollar policy on me?”
“He said it protected the family business.”
“He doesn't own my business!”
“I know that now.”
“You knew it then!”
“Hannah—”
“Why was there gasoline in his car?”
Mom went silent.
Everything inside me went cold.
“Mom.”
“I don't know.”
“Were you going to burn the bakery?”
“No!”
“Then why bring gasoline?”
“Robert said if you wouldn't sell, the building needed to look damaged enough that insurance would force you to reconsider.”
Martin whispered, “Arson fraud.”
I closed my eyes.
“You went along with that?”
“I thought he would break some equipment. I didn't know he brought fuel until we were already there.”
“You still stayed.”
Her crying stopped.
That hit harder than excuses.
“You ripped through my office.”
“We needed the folder.”
“Because you knew the medical bills were fake.”
“Yes.”
“Say it again.”
“Hannah…”
“Say it.”
She whispered, “The bills were fake.”
I looked at Jasmine.
Melissa had pretended to need spinal surgery.
Mom had cried at my table.
Dad had threatened me.
All of it had been theater.
“Where did the money go?”
“To cover Silver Pine’s debts.”
“How much does Dad owe?”
“I don't know exactly.”
“You know.”
Another pause.
“Over nine hundred thousand.”
Jasmine muttered, “Jesus.”
I asked, “Who does he owe?”
“Banks. Private investors. Someone named Victor.”
Ruiz immediately wrote the name down.
“Last name?”
“I don't know.”
Then we heard a noise through Mom’s phone.
A car door.
Mom stopped breathing.
“What is it?” I asked.
“He’s here.”
“Who?”
“Your father.”
Ruiz stood.
“Mrs. Carter, lock the door and call 911.”
Mom whispered, “He doesn't know I called you.”
A door slammed somewhere.
Then Dad’s voice.
“Linda?”
Mom gasped.
“Hannah, I’m sorry.”
The line disconnected.
Ruiz was already moving.
He called local units while Jasmine pulled me back into my chair.
I wanted to follow.
Ruiz pointed at me.
“No.”
“That’s my mother.”
“And your father may be dangerous.”
“He wouldn't hurt her.”
Ruiz stared at me.
“Yesterday, would you have said he’d break into your bakery carrying gasoline?”
I had no answer.
Twenty-three minutes later, Ruiz received a call.
Police were at my parents’ house.
My mother was alive.
My father was gone.
But he had left something behind.
A photograph.
It showed me walking out of Morning Finch two days earlier.
Taken from across the street.
May you like
On the back, Dad had written four words.
SELL IT OR LOSE EVERYTHING.
