Chapter 3 - The Panic Call at Dawn
Seven days had passed since Christmas Eve. Seven days of silence. Not a single text from my mother asking if Lily was warm. Not a single phone call from my brother Daniel asking if his niece had opened any presents.
They thought I was shivering in a cheap motel, waiting for my money to run out so I would crawl back to Victor on my hands and knees, begging for his forgiveness so they could keep their comfortable lives.
At 6:12 on New Year’s morning, my burner phone began to vibrate violently on the nightstand.
Tomas Varga.
One call. Two calls. Five calls. Ten calls.
I sat up, adjusting the soft cashmere robe Marisol had loaned me, and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the snow-covered Hudson River. I watched the early morning light tint the icy water in shades of rose and pale gold. Lily was still fast asleep in the adjoining room, completely safe from the monsters who carried her bloodline.
On the eighteenth ring, I slid my thumb across the green icon and held the speaker to my ear.
“Anna? Anna, pick up the goddamn phone!” my father screamed, his voice strained and ragged, punctuated by heavy wheezing. “Where the hell are you?”
“Good morning, Dad,” I said calmly. “Happy New Year.”
There was a frantic shuffling on the other end, followed by my mother’s muffled, hysterical sobbing in the background.
“What did you do, Anna? What did you do to Victor’s accounts?” my father bellowed. “Two marshals showed up at our front door twenty minutes ago with a seizure warrant for the Mercedes! My debit card was declined at the pharmacy! Daniel called screaming—the security guards at the terminal confiscated his company laptop and revoked his badge! They escorted him off the property like a criminal!”
“Daniel never did any real work at that terminal anyway,” I replied coolly. “He was drawing a hundred and forty thousand a year while playing video games in a corner office. The audit caught it on day two.”
“Are you out of your mind?” Dad’s voice cracked into pure panic. “Victor is threatening to burn the whole family to the ground! He called me at five in the morning saying someone froze his corporate credit lines and seized the warehouse leases! He thinks you stole his money! He’s coming to our house right now, Anna! He’s out of his mind with rage! You need to call his lawyer right now and tell them there was a mistake!”
“There was no mistake, Dad.”
Silence hit the line. For five long seconds, the only sound was my father’s ragged breathing.
“What are you talking about?” he whispered.
“I know about Grandfather Sandor’s trust,” I said, every word clipped and deliberate. “I know about the six hundred thousand dollars Victor used to bail you out of your gambling debts in 2018. I know you forged my signature on the power-of-attorney proxy. And I know that the house you’re standing in right now doesn't belong to Victor, and it certainly doesn't belong to you.”
A sharp intake of breath hissed through the receiver. “Anna… you don't understand how things work… I did that to protect the family—”
“You told me to go back to a man who slammed my face into a bathroom door while my three-year-old child screamed in terror,” I interrupted, my tone icy enough to freeze the blood in his veins. “Mom told me that unless I could pay her three thousand dollars a month, I was on my own. Well, Mom doesn't have to worry about three thousand dollars anymore. Because starting today, the allowance has been reduced to zero.”
“Anna, please!” Dad broke down, his arrogant façade shattering into pathetic desperation. “We don't have savings! We don't have anything outside what the trust disburses! If Victor sues us, we’ll lose everything! Elena has high blood pressure, she’s fainting on the couch! You can’t do this to your own parents!”
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“You chose his money over my life on Christmas Eve,” I whispered. “Now you can ask Victor to buy your groceries. If he can even afford his own bail.”
I ended the call, blocked his number, and handed the phone to Marisol, who was waiting at the kitchen island with a warm croissant and our court schedule.
