Chapter 13 - The Empty Account
By nine the next morning, Rachel Kim had confirmed something that made the entire situation uglier.
The six-hundred-forty-thousand-dollar loan to Derek had never been funded.
Not fully.
Not even close.
Bank records showed that Mercer Development Holdings had transferred only seventy-five thousand dollars into an Apex-related account.
Three days later, fifty thousand moved back to another Mercer-controlled company.
That meant Derek may have received twenty-five thousand dollars at most.
Yet Gavin was demanding more than seven hundred thousand.
Using my house as leverage.
Rachel laid the numbers out in Aunt Lorraine’s kitchen while rain tapped softly against the windows.
“So the debt is manufactured?” I asked.
“Inflated,” she corrected. “Potentially fraudulent. We need discovery before I can say manufactured.”
Aunt Lorraine folded her arms.
“Call it what it is. A con.”
Rachel gave her a tired smile.
“In court, I prefer nouns I can prove.”
I admired that about her.
On the table between us sat two laptops, three legal pads, Derek’s yellow envelope, and an untouched plate of cinnamon rolls.
Chloe and Liam were upstairs watching a movie with Sarah.
Nobody wanted the kids hearing any more.
“Here’s the part that worries me,” Rachel said.
She turned the laptop.
A corporate registration appeared.
MERCER FAMILY CAPITAL LLC.
Registered eighteen months earlier.
Authorized representative:
Richard Brooks.
My father.
I stared at the screen.
“No.”
Aunt Lorraine whispered something that would have gotten her thrown out of church.
Rachel continued.
“Your father isn’t just connected to Gavin through Derek. He was listed as a representative for one of Mercer’s companies.”
“Could Gavin have put his name there without permission?”
“Yes.”
“Did he?”
Rachel hesitated.
“I found an electronically signed authorization filed with the state.”
My father’s email address was attached.
I sat back slowly.
So much for Derek’s warning.
Don’t trust Dad.
I hadn’t trusted him in months.
Apparently that still wasn’t enough.
A knock sounded at the front door.
Everyone froze.
Aunt Lorraine looked toward the hallway.
“I’m not expecting anyone.”
Rachel closed the laptop.
I stood.
Lorraine reached the door first and checked the camera.
Two uniformed sheriff’s deputies stood outside.
My stomach tightened.
She opened the door but left the chain engaged.
“Yes?”
“Lorraine Brooks?”
“Yes.”
“We’re looking for Hannah Brooks.”
I stepped into view.
“That’s me.”
One deputy held a large envelope.
“You’ve been served.”
My hands went cold.
Rachel was already beside me.
“May I ask the nature of the filing?”
The deputy looked at her.
“You counsel?”
“Yes.”
He passed the envelope through the narrow opening.
Rachel tore it open.
Her eyes moved quickly across the page.
Then stopped.
“What is it?” I asked.
She looked furious.
“Mercer Development filed an emergency civil action alleging fraudulent conveyance and breach of personal guarantee.”
I laughed once.
It sounded strange.
“Fraudulent conveyance of what?”
“Your house.”
The complaint claimed I had transferred trust proceeds into the Sewickley property to hide collateral from creditors.
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
“No,” Rachel said. “But nonsense can still cost money to fight.”
Aunt Lorraine’s eyes narrowed.
“What do they want?”
Rachel scanned further.
“A temporary restraining order preventing Hannah from selling, refinancing, transferring, or materially modifying the property.”
“I’m not selling it.”
“That’s not the real objective.”
“What is?”
“To scare you.”
My phone rang.
Gavin.
This time, Rachel nodded.
“Answer it. Speaker.”
I did.
“Hello?”
“Ms. Brooks.”
His voice was calm.
“I assume you received the papers.”
“I did.”
“I’m sorry it came to this.”
“No, you’re not.”
A pause.
Then he chuckled softly.
“You sound like Lorraine.”
“My aunt doesn’t forge documents.”
His tone cooled.
“Be careful with accusations.”
“You photographed my house.”
“I document collateral.”
“My house isn’t collateral.”
“It became collateral when your family executed the guarantee.”
“I didn’t execute anything.”
“You benefited from family funds.”
I almost laughed.
“You picked the wrong family member for that argument.”
He went quiet.
Rachel mouthed: Keep him talking.
“What do you actually want?” I asked.
“Seven hundred thousand dollars.”
“I don’t owe you seven dollars.”
“You have the liquidity.”
“How would you know?”
Silence.
There it was.
A tiny mistake.
I pushed.
“How do you know what I have?”
He recovered quickly.
“Public records.”
“My investment accounts aren’t public.”
Nothing.
Rachel wrote something on her legal pad and held it toward me.
ASK ABOUT RICHARD.
I did.
“Did my father give you my financial records?”
Gavin exhaled.
“Your father tried to clean up a problem your brother created.”
“So yes.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
His voice hardened.
“You can make this easy, Hannah.”
“No.”
“You haven’t even heard the offer.”
“I heard it when you sent me a picture of my own house.”
I disconnected.
Rachel stared at the phone.
“That was useful.”
Aunt Lorraine looked toward the staircase where Chloe and Liam were.
“How much does Richard know?”
Before anyone could answer, a car door slammed outside.
I moved toward the window.
A familiar gray sedan had stopped at the curb.
My mother stepped out.
Then my father.
And in Richard’s hand was a thick blue folder.
My father looked up at the house.
May you like
For the first time since the settlement, he had come looking for me.
And judging by his face, he wasn’t there to apologize.
