PART4

“You let him drive it for two years!”

“Also correct.”

“So what changed?”

I paused.

“Last night.”

He laughed angrily.

“Are you seriously doing all this because of a joke?”

“No, David. I’m doing this because I finally stopped pretending that your family respects me.”

He became quiet.

Then he tried another approach.

“Look, Matt. Carter is nineteen. He made a mistake. You know how boys are. We can sit down and talk about it.”

“I’m not interested.”

“Jessica is under a lot of stress.”

“Then she should stop spending money she doesn’t have.”

David’s breathing changed.

“What does that mean?”

“It means the credit card is canceled.”

“You can’t cancel it! We have payments scheduled!”

I looked at my computer.

“Which payments?”

“Mortgage, utilities, groceries, everything!”

I slowly turned my chair toward the window.

“David, that card was never supposed to pay your mortgage.”

“We had an arrangement!”

“No. We had an emergency card.”

“You’re splitting hairs!”

“I’m reading the agreement.”

He swore under his breath.

Then he said something that made me sit up straighter.

“You know what? Maybe we should tell your mother what you’ve really been doing with your money.”

I frowned.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Go ahead.”

He laughed.

“Don’t think you’re the only one with secrets, Matthew.”

I remained silent.

“Your mother doesn’t know everything about you.”

For a moment, I wondered what he meant.

Then he hung up.

I sat there staring at my phone.

David had never spoken to me like that before.

He was usually the quiet one. The man who avoided conflict, accepted whatever Jessica said, and allowed Carter to behave however he wanted.

But that morning, something had changed.

He wasn’t simply angry about the Porsche.

He was afraid.

And I wanted to know why.

At 11:32 a.m., Luke called.

Luke had been my friend since college. He was one of the few people who knew how much I had sacrificed financially for my family.

He had also helped me arrange the vehicle recovery the night before.

“Hey, Matt,” he said. “Everything went smoothly. The Porsche is secured.”

“Thanks, Luke.”

“No problem. But I have a question.”

“What?”

“Are you sure you want to keep it?”

I looked down at the folder beside my laptop.

“Yes.”

“Because there’s something you should know. The car has a few issues.”

“What kind of issues?”

“Nothing major mechanically. But when we loaded it, I noticed a large amount of personal paperwork in the glove compartment. Some of it looks like financial documents.”

I frowned.

“Financial documents?”

“Yeah. Bank statements, dealership paperwork, and a couple of envelopes. I didn’t open anything. I just noticed the names.”

“Whose names?”

“David and Jessica.”

I sat up.

“Why would their paperwork be in my car?”

“That’s what I wondered.”

I rubbed my forehead.

“Did you see anything else?”

Luke hesitated.

“One envelope had the name of a bank on it. There was also a document with a number written across the top. It looked like a loan account.”

I stared at the wall.

“Can you send me a picture of the outside of the documents?”

“Sure. I’ll send it now.”

A few seconds later, my phone vibrated.

I opened the photograph.

It showed a white envelope with a bank logo.

Below the logo was a familiar name.

Jessica Davis.

And beside it was a handwritten note:

SECOND VEHICLE — COLLATERAL

I read it twice.

Then a third time.

My stomach tightened.

I immediately called Luke back.

“Luke, don’t throw anything away. Keep every document exactly where it is.”

“What’s going on?”

“I don’t know yet.”

But I had a feeling I was about to discover something much bigger than a spoiled nephew and an expensive car.

At 12:04 p.m., Jessica sent me a text.

Matthew, we need to talk. Please don’t make this worse. Carter is devastated. Mom is crying. David is furious. Whatever happened last night, we can fix it.

I didn’t respond.

Two minutes later, another message arrived.

You have no idea what you’ve done to this family.

I stared at the screen.

Then I typed one sentence.

I think I’m finally starting to understand what this family has done to me.

I sent it.

She immediately called.

I ignored it.

Then she sent a voice message.

I almost deleted it without listening.

But something made me press play.

Her voice sounded different.

No screaming.

No anger.

Just panic.

“Matthew, please. I know you’re upset. I know Carter shouldn’t have done what he did. But you need to understand something. That car isn’t just a car anymore. David used it for something, and if you don’t give it back, we’re going to have a serious problem.”

I replayed the message.

That car isn’t just a car anymore.

I leaned back.

Then I called Luke.

“Don’t move anything yet.”

“What?”

“I need you to check whether there’s a loan agreement connected to the vehicle. Don’t sign anything. Don’t hand it to anyone. I want to speak to an attorney first.”

“Understood.”

I ended the call.

For the next thirty minutes, I couldn’t concentrate on anything.

I had spent two years believing I had purchased a luxury car for a spoiled nephew.

Now I was beginning to suspect that my family had used the car for something else entirely.

At 1:17 p.m., an unknown number appeared on my phone.

I answered.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Davis?”

“Yes.”

“My name is Andrew Miller. I’m calling from First National Auto Finance.”

I straightened in my chair.

“How can I help you?”

“I’m contacting you regarding a vehicle registered under your name. A black Porsche Macan.”

I closed my eyes for a moment.

“Go ahead.”

“There’s an outstanding matter involving a financing application connected to that vehicle. We need to verify certain information.”

My fingers tightened around the phone.

“What kind of financing application?”

There was a brief pause.

“According to our records, a loan application was submitted using the vehicle identification number associated with your Porsche. The applicant listed himself as the vehicle owner.”

“Who?”

“Mr. David Davis.”

I felt the room become very quiet.

David.

My brother-in-law.

The man who had just told me I couldn’t take back a car that I legally owned.

“Was the loan approved?” I asked.

“No, sir. The application is currently under review because the ownership documentation does not match the applicant’s declaration.”

I looked at the photograph Luke had sent me.

The envelope.

The handwritten note.

Second vehicle — collateral.

“How much was he trying to borrow?”

Another pause.

“Approximately $85,000.”

I slowly stood up.

Eighty-five thousand dollars.

For a moment, I couldn’t speak.

Then I asked the only question that mattered.

“Did he use my personal information?”

“That’s one of the issues we’re trying to clarify, sir.”

My heart started beating faster.

“What information?”

CONTINUE FOR NEXT PART5…