Two Days Later, the Storm Hit My Door
The consequences showed up fast.
At sunrise, my phone buzzed so much it nearly fell off the nightstand.
Missed calls. Voicemails. Panic in every one.
By noon, pounding echoed through the hallway.
Mom hammered my apartment door like she could force obedience back into my body.
“Open up!” she shouted. “We need to talk!”
I cracked the door two inches.
Mom stood there shaking, eyes wild.
Trevor hovered behind her, tense and desperate.
“What happened to our accounts?” Mom demanded.
“Why are we getting foreclosure notices?”
I crossed my arms.
“I stopped paying. That’s what happened.”
Trevor snarled. “You can’t do that.”
“I already did.”
He shoved his phone toward me. “My accounts are frozen.”
“The bank flagged suspicious activity,” I said. “You used my money to hide your debt.”
“They’ll investigate. That’s how the system works.”
His face drained.
I held a folder in my hands.
Copies of everything I found in that room.
I handed it to my mother.
“I sent duplicates to the credit union and to the fraud investigator,” I said evenly.
“They’ll handle the rest.”
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