Chapter 7 - The Line of Credit
The drive back down from Incline Village to Reno was quiet, save for the rhythmic swish of the windshield wipers cutting through the mountain mist. My phone buzzed against the dashboard console—not with a threat or an anonymous warning this time, but with an incoming call from a restricted federal extension.
I pulled over onto the shoulder of the highway, letting the engine idle while I answered.
“Major Sterling?” a crisp, professional female voice asked.
“Speaking.”
“This is Special Agent Thomas, U.S. Attorney’s Office, District of Nevada. We received the digital transmission from your contact at the state police barracks. We’ve pulled the original deployment logs from Fort Meade.” She paused, paper shuffling softly in the background. “Your father’s corporate counsel just filed an emergency motion to freeze all Sterling & Vance assets, claiming corporate restructuring. But because of those counter-signatures, we’ve placed a federal hold on the entire portfolio—including the personal accounts tied to your mother and your sister.”
My chest loosened by a fraction of an inch, though the tension didn’t leave my shoulders. “And Chloe?”
“Your sister is currently sitting in our Carson City office,” Agent Thomas said carefully. “She came in voluntarily about twenty minutes ago with a box of bank statements. She claims she was acting under direct coercion from your father and didn't know her notary stamp was being used to forge asset transfers.”
I stared out at the dark expanse of the desert highway. “Is she telling the truth?”
“Partially,” the agent replied. “She was terrified of losing her inheritance, so she looked the other way. But she didn't execute the primary fraud. Your father did. However, Major, there’s another complication. Your apartment deed transfer went through a secondary title company before the federal hold hit. Legally, the lease has already been terminated by the new ownership entity. Even if we freeze your father’s assets, your personal belongings and your living space are currently tied up in civil probate court. You don’t have a home to go back to tonight.”
“Understood,” I said quietly. “Keep me updated on the grand jury timeline.”
I ended the call and sat in the dark car for a long moment. My father had tried to erase me with paperwork, and in doing so, he had dragged Chloe down into the legal wreckage. My mother was sitting in a freezing lake house with a husband whose financial empire had just evaporated.
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Yet, as I looked at the dashboard clock—nearly midnight—I realized something sobering. The law was moving, but Eli and I were still sitting in a rental car with two days of clothes, no permanent address, and a bank account that had only begun to process the reversal of the zero-balance lock.
I needed a place where my son could sleep without jumping every time a car passed on the street. I needed to face my sister before the federal investigators finished tearing her life apart.
