Chapter 5 - The Ledger of Secrets
The intruder wheezed, clutching his bruised ribs as he glared up at me with a mixture of terror and disbelief.
"Okay! Okay, get this thing off my chest!" he choked out, his fingers clawing uselessly at my shoe.
"Talk," I demanded, pressing down just enough to remind him of gravity.
"It was the girl!" he gasped, squeezing his eyes shut. "The blonde! Jessica! She said her husband’s mother was holding back asset records that belonged to their LLC. She paid me two grand up front to break in and swap the files with a set of forged tax liens!"
My stomach tightened. Forged tax liens. They weren't just trying to scare me or reclaim the house through petty harassment; they were setting up a legal trap to seize the property through fraudulent debt default.
"Did Daniel know?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.
"I don't know about the son!" the man groaned, thrashing slightly. "I only dealt with her! Look, lady, take your foot off me—I swear I'm leaving!"
I didn't move my foot. I reached down with my free hand, scooped up the manila envelope, and checked the contents. The original blueprints and Arthur’s investment ledgers were intact. But tucked into the back pocket was a freshly printed document bearing the letterhead of a shady, off-shore bankruptcy firm in downtown Los Angeles—with my forged signature at the bottom.
Jessica hadn't just been playing a game. She had been planning this for months.
"Stay on the floor," I ordered the intruder.
I backed away toward the wall phone, keeping my eyes fixed on him as I dialed 911.
"Malibu Police Department, what is your emergency?" the dispatcher's voice came through crisp and clear.
"Yes, my name is Helen Hale," I said, looking down at the shivering criminal on my rug. "I have an armed burglar pinned in my study at 4042 Pacific Coast Highway. Send a unit immediately. And have them bring an evidence bag—I have a forged legal document he was trying to plant."
The intruder’s eyes widened in sheer panic. "Wait, lady, you can't call the cops on me! Jessica will kill me!"
"Jessica can explain it to the judge," I said coldly.
I hung up the phone, walked back to the window, and watched the distant beams of police cruisers beginning to wind their way down the coastal road toward my house.
My phone buzzed in my apron pocket. I pulled it out.
It was a text message from an unknown number.
Mom, you're making a huge mistake. Drop the charges, sign the house over to us by noon tomorrow, or you won't like what we release to the press.
I stared at the screen, a slow, grim smile forming on my lips. They still didn't understand.
May you like
I tapped the screen, replying with a single photo of the handcuffed intruder being led out of my front door by two armed officers, followed by three words:
Bring it on, son.
