Chapter 4 - My Best Friend's $200,000 Betrayal
I called Kara seventeen times.
She answered on the eighteenth.
“Olivia.”
Her voice sounded smaller than I remembered.
I wanted to scream.
I wanted to ask how she could betray me after everything we'd survived together.
Instead, I asked the only question that mattered.
“Is my father alive?”
Silence.
“Kara, answer me.”
“I don't know.”
“Don't lie.”
“I'm not lying.”
I heard traffic in the background.
Then a man spoke somewhere near her.
Kara lowered her voice.
“Liv, I'm sorry.”
I closed my eyes.
“Sorry doesn't begin to cover what you did.”
“I know.”
“You sold me.”
“I thought they were only going to scare you.”
“They auctioned me in front of strangers.”
Her breathing became uneven.
“I didn't know about the auction.”
“You gave them my name.”
“Yes.”
“You brought me there.”
“Yes.”
“You watched them drag me away.”
She began crying.
“I was trying to save my brother.”
I froze.
“Your brother?”
Kara's younger brother, Ethan, was twenty.
He had struggled with gambling and substance abuse since their mother died.
Kara had spent years trying to keep him out of trouble.
“What happened to Ethan?”
“He borrowed money from men connected to Victor. When he couldn't repay them, they came after me.”
“Two hundred thousand dollars?”
“That was the amount they demanded after interest and penalties.”
I gripped the phone.
“And you decided I was worth more than your brother's debt?”
“No. They told me your father had something they needed.”
My breath caught.
“What?”
“A small wooden box.”
I looked at Nolan.
He was listening carefully.
Kara continued.
“They said if I brought you to the mansion, they'd forgive the debt and release Ethan.”
“Did they?”
She sobbed.
“No.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke.
Then she whispered, “They took him anyway.”
I felt anger and pity collide inside me.
Kara had betrayed me.
But someone had manipulated her desperation.
That didn't erase her choice.
It made the situation more complicated.
“Where are you?” I asked.
“I can't tell you.”
“Who has Ethan?”
“Victor's people.”
“Where is the music box?”
Another pause.
“Kara?”
“I gave it to them.”
My stomach dropped.
“Who?”
“A man named Marcus Reed.”
Nolan's expression changed immediately.
I covered the phone.
“Do you know him?”
“Victor's chief of security.”
I returned to the call.
“Kara, listen carefully. Don't meet anyone else. Go somewhere public and call a federal attorney.”
“I can't.”
“Why?”
“Because Marcus told me something.”
“What?”
“He said your father isn't the only person Victor has been keeping alive.”
The call disconnected.
I stared at the screen.
Nolan took a step closer.
“What did she say?”
I repeated the conversation.
He listened without interrupting.
When I finished, he called Daniel.
“Find Marcus Reed. Quietly. And locate Ethan Bennett.”
Daniel asked a question I couldn't hear.
Nolan answered, “Alive. Both of them.”
I looked at him.
“You're helping Kara?”
“I'm helping her brother.”
“After what she did?”
Nolan lowered the phone.
“Her brother didn't sell you.”
I hated how reasonable that sounded.
I hated even more that I agreed.
We drove to Queens that afternoon.
Nolan insisted on bringing two security vehicles.
I refused to ride in the same car as armed men.
He compromised by placing his guards in separate vehicles.
My storage unit looked exactly as it had in Kara's photograph.
The lock was broken.
Boxes were overturned.
Old clothes and family photographs covered the floor.
I knelt beside a cardboard box labeled MOM.
Inside were Christmas ornaments, recipe cards, and the blue scarf my mother wore during chemotherapy.
For a moment, the investigation disappeared.
I was simply a daughter surrounded by the remains of a family that had been taken apart piece by piece.
Nolan stood near the doorway.
He didn't rush me.
He didn't tell me everything would be fine.
He simply waited.
I found a photograph of my parents on their wedding day.
My father was laughing.
My mother had one hand against his cheek.
I pressed the photograph to my chest.
“They were happy,” I whispered.
Nolan answered softly.
“I know.”
I looked up.
“How?”
He hesitated.
“Your father talked about her constantly.”
I stared at him.
“You knew him well?”
“Better than you think.”
“Then why did he never mention you?”
“Because he was ashamed of the work he did for my family.”
That answer unsettled me.
I searched the remaining boxes.
The music box was gone.
But beneath a stack of books, I found a small brass key.
It was attached to a faded blue ribbon.
I recognized it.
The ribbon had once been tied around the music box.
I held up the key.
“Nolan.”
He crossed the room.
“What is it?”
“I think Kara missed something.”
He examined it.
A tiny number was engraved on the metal.
Nineteen.
His expression tightened.
“Pier Nineteen.”
I nodded.
But something bothered me.
The key was too small for a warehouse door.
It looked like a key for a cabinet or a safety deposit box.
I turned it over.
On the other side were three letters.
E.S.B.
“Evelyn Shaw,” I whispered.
Nolan looked at me.
“What?”
“The federal investigator. Her initials.”
He studied the key.
Then pulled out his phone.
“Daniel, I need everything we have on Evelyn Shaw's old safe-deposit accounts.”
We left the storage facility shortly afterward.
As we approached the parking lot, I noticed a dark blue sedan parked across the street.
A man sat behind the wheel.
He wore sunglasses despite the cloudy afternoon.
Something about him felt familiar.
Then I saw his hand resting on the steering wheel.
A thick silver ring gleamed on his finger.
My father's warning flashed through my mind.
Never trust the man with the silver ring.
I grabbed Nolan's arm.
“Don't turn around.”
He stopped.
“What?”
“There's a man watching us.”
“Where?”
“Blue sedan. Across the street.”
Nolan glanced at the reflection in the storage office window.
His expression hardened.
“Get behind me.”
The sedan's engine started.
Nolan moved quickly, guiding me toward our vehicle.
The blue car accelerated.
For one terrifying second, I thought it would strike us.
Instead, the passenger window lowered.
A gun appeared.
Nolan shoved me behind a concrete pillar.
Shots shattered the glass entrance of the storage office.
People screamed.
His guards returned fire.
The sedan sped away.
I crouched against the pavement, my ears ringing.
Nolan knelt beside me.
“Are you hurt?”
I shook my head.
He checked my arms anyway, careful not to touch more than necessary.
Then his phone rang.
Daniel.
Nolan answered.
His expression changed as he listened.
“What do you mean, the account is active?”
I looked up.
He put the call on speaker.
Daniel's voice filled the air.
“We found an account connected to Evelyn Shaw. It was opened under a protected identity eight years ago.”
“And?” Nolan asked.
“Someone accessed it this morning.”
“Who?”
Daniel hesitated.
“The account holder.”
I felt my heart stop.
“Evelyn Shaw is alive?”
Daniel continued.
“According to the bank's security records, yes.”
Nolan looked at me.
“Where is she?”
Daniel's answer came slowly.
“At a branch in Manhattan.”
I grabbed Nolan's sleeve.
“Then we go there.”
Daniel interrupted.
“There's something else.”
“What?”
“The person who accompanied Evelyn Shaw was identified by facial recognition.”
I could barely breathe.
“Who?”
Daniel answered.
May you like
“Thomas Carver.”
My father.
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