Chapter 3 — The Debt on My Name
Chapter 3 — The Debt on My Name
By sunrise, I had learned three things.
First, I had a concussion.
Second, Tommy had disappeared from police custody before he could be questioned.
Third, someone had put a price on Dom Vasquez's life.
And apparently, my name was written beside the debt.
I found out about the last one because Dom finally decided I deserved the truth.
Not all of it.
But enough to make sleeping impossible.
The doctor arrived at six in the morning.
He was a quiet man named Dr. Mercer who examined the bruise on my temple, checked my pupils, asked me questions, and told me I needed rest.
I asked him if I could go to work.
He looked at Dom.
Dom looked at me.
“No,” they said together.
I glared at both of them.
“I hate everyone in this room.”
Dr. Mercer smiled.
“That's usually a good sign.”
After he left, Dom placed a glass of water beside me.
“Drink.”
“I can drink without instructions.”
“Good.”
I took the glass.
He sat across from me.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then I said:
“Tommy escaped.”
“Yes.”
“You knew?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't you tell me?”
“You had just been attacked.”
“So?”
“So you needed to sleep.”
I stared at him.
“You're very controlling.”
“So I've been told.”
“By women?”
“Mostly.”
I almost smiled.
Then remembered why Tommy had come.
“He said something before you arrived.”
Dom's expression hardened.
“What?”
“He said I don't understand what I saw.”
“I know.”
“He said I should ask about the Reyes name.”
Dom leaned back.
“I've been investigating that.”
“And?”
“I found something.”
My heart began beating faster.
“What?”
He didn't answer.
Instead, he stood and walked to the window.
“Before I tell you, you need to understand something.”
“What?”
“Tommy wasn't acting alone.”
I folded my arms.
“I already knew that.”
“No.”
He turned.
“You don't.”
He placed a folder on the table.
“This isn't about Tommy.”
I opened it.
The first page showed a photograph.
A man in his sixties.
Gray hair.
Expensive suit.
Cold eyes.
I didn't recognize him.
“Who?”
“Victor Hale.”
“What does he have to do with you?”
“He owns half the companies that compete with mine.”
“That's normal.”
“No.”
Dom pointed to the photograph.
“He has been trying to kill me for eighteen months.”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
“Because I refused to sell him my shipping operation.”
“That seems excessive.”
“It is.”
“What else?”
“He offered me money.”
“How much?”
“Two hundred million.”
I nearly dropped the folder.
“And you refused?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because the company isn't for sale.”
I stared at him.
“You turned down two hundred million dollars?”
“Yes.”
“Are you insane?”
Dom smiled.
“Possibly.”
I closed the folder.
“So Victor wants you dead.”
“He isn't the only one.”
My smile disappeared.
“Who else?”
Dom took a breath.
“Rafael.”
“Your business partner.”
“Yes.”
“Tommy.”
“Yes.”
“Anyone else?”
“Three.”
“Three?”
“Three people have independently attempted to arrange my death.”
I stared at him.
“Why?”
Dom's voice became quieter.
“Because I'm standing between them and something they desperately want.”
“The ledger.”
“No.”
“Then what?”
He looked at me.
“The debt.”
I frowned.
“What debt?”
Dom opened another folder.
Inside was an old document.
The paper was yellowed.
The signature at the bottom was unmistakably handwritten.
Gabriel Reyes.
My grandfather.
I stopped breathing.
“That's my grandfather.”
“Yes.”
“What does he owe you?”
“Nothing.”
I looked at Dom.
“Then why is his name here?”
“He didn't owe me.”
Dom turned the document around.
“He owed my father.”
I read the first paragraph.
It was a private agreement.
Thirty-two years old.
Between Gabriel Reyes and Miguel Vasquez.
My grandfather.
Dom's father.
I scanned the numbers.
A loan.
Five million dollars.
My eyes widened.
“Five million?”
“Yes.”
“That's worth much more today.”
“I know.”
“Did my grandfather repay it?”
Dom shook his head.
“No.”
I looked at him.
“Then why aren't you demanding the money?”
“Because the debt was transferred.”
“To whom?”
Dom pointed at the final line.
I read it.
In the event of Gabriel Reyes's death, all outstanding obligations shall transfer to his direct descendant.
My blood went cold.
“Me.”
Dom nodded.
“Your name.”
I stared at the page.
“That can't be legal.”
“Maybe.”
“You're telling me I inherited a thirty-year-old debt?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Five million.”
I laughed.
It sounded hysterical.
“I don't have five million dollars.”
“I know.”
“Then what happens?”
Dom looked at me.
“That depends.”
“On what?”
“Whether the original agreement is valid.”
I looked back at the document.
“And you have it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because my father kept it.”
“Why would he?”
“I don't know.”
I looked at the signature.
My grandfather had hidden this from me.
My mother had never mentioned it.
Nobody had.
“How did you find it?”
“After my father died.”
“And you knew about me?”
“Not until recently.”
“What changed?”
Dom's expression became serious.
“Someone started searching for you.”
“Who?”
“I don't know.”
“Then why would anyone care about a five-million-dollar debt?”
Dom sat down.
“Because the debt isn't really five million.”
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
He opened another document.
My grandfather had attached something.
A clause.
A single paragraph.
I read it twice.
Then a third time.
My hands began shaking.
“The debt can be converted into ownership.”
“Yes.”
“Ownership of what?”
Dom looked at me.
“The Reyes family's controlling interest in a company called Meridian Holdings.”
I stared.
“I've never heard of it.”
“Exactly.”
Meridian Holdings sounded meaningless.
But Dom explained that the company owned warehouses, shipping terminals, property, and financial interests across three countries.
Assets worth billions.
Not millions.
Billions.
My grandfather had apparently hidden the company behind layers of private trusts.
And according to the agreement, if the debt was never repaid, control of the company could eventually transfer.
To the Vasquez family.
I looked at Dom.
“You're trying to take my family's company.”
“No.”
“Your father was.”
“My father is dead.”
“That doesn't answer the question.”
Dom's voice softened.
“I don't want Meridian.”
“Why?”
“Because I don't think your grandfather intended for my family to own it.”
“Then why did he sign this?”
“I don't know.”
“Everyone keeps saying that.”
“I know.”
I closed my eyes.
Too many secrets.
Too many dead people.
Too many documents.
And somehow my name was always at the center of them.
“What does this have to do with Tommy?”
Dom looked away.
“Tommy found out about the debt.”
“And Rafael?”
“He found out too.”
“Victor?”
“Yes.”
I stared at him.
“So everyone wants Meridian.”
“Yes.”
“And killing you removes the Vasquez claim.”
“Exactly.”
“But if you die, doesn't the debt disappear?”
“No.”
“Then why kill you?”
“Because they believe my death would destroy the evidence.”
I looked at the documents.
“The original agreement.”
“Yes.”
“If the document disappears…”
“They can challenge the debt.”
“And take the company.”
“Yes.”
I slowly understood.
This wasn't just about Dom.
It was about control.
My family had built something enormous.
My grandfather had hidden it.
My mother had buried the truth.
And now people were willing to kill over it.
I looked at Dom.
“Why tell me?”
“Because you deserve to know.”
“That's not enough.”
He was silent.
I waited.
Finally, he said:
“Because if I die, you become the next target.”
I stood.
“What?”
“The debt is tied to you.”
“So?”
“So anyone who wants Meridian will eventually come after you.”
My stomach tightened.
“You mean Victor.”
“Victor.”
“Rafael.”
“Rafael.”
“Tommy.”
“If he's still alive.”
“Anyone else?”
Dom hesitated.
“Yes.”
“Who?”
He didn't answer.
“Dom.”
“My father's former attorney.”
“What does he want?”
“The original ledger.”
“What ledger?”
“The one proving the debt was never settled.”
I looked at him.
“You said the ledger wasn't the important thing.”
“It isn't.”
“Then what is?”
Dom stepped closer.
“The ledger contains something else.”
“What?”
He looked into my eyes.
“Your grandfather's final instructions.”
A car exploded outside.
The windows shook.
I screamed.
Dom grabbed me and pulled me to the floor.
Glass shattered.
Security alarms erupted.
Vincent shouted from the hallway.
“Down!”
Another explosion.
Then gunfire.
Dom covered my body with his.
I could hear his breathing.
Steady.
Controlled.
Mine wasn't.
“Stay here.”
“No.”
“Nema.”
“I'm not staying alone.”
He looked at me.
For the first time, I saw fear in his eyes.
Not for himself.
For me.
That frightened me more than the gunshots.
He grabbed my hand.
“Then stay behind me.”
We moved through the hallway.
Vincent was already at the window.
“Vehicle is gone.”
Dom looked outside.
Smoke drifted across the street.
“How many?”
“One vehicle.”
“Plates?”
“Covered.”
Dom cursed.
I looked at him.
“Was this because of me?”
“No.”
“You don't know that.”
“Yes, I do.”
“How?”
He looked at the folder.
“They knew exactly where I was.”
He turned toward me.
“Someone inside my organization gave them the location.”
That was when I understood.
The people trying to kill Dom weren't all outside.
One of them was already inside.
By afternoon, Dom had moved everyone into a secure room.
No phones.
No computers.
No outside communication.
He stood at the center of the room.
Vincent, two security officers, and three senior executives sat around the table.
I sat beside Dom.
He looked at everyone.
“Someone leaked our location.”
Silence.
“I want the truth.”
Nobody spoke.
Dom looked at each person.
Then his eyes stopped on a woman sitting near the end of the table.
She was elegant.
Blonde.
Late forties.
Her name was Celia Hart.
She had worked for Dom's father.
Twenty-six years.
She looked at me.
Then away.
Dom noticed.
“Celia.”
She looked up.
“Yes?”
“Do you know Nema Reyes?”
Her face went white.
I saw it.
Dom saw it.
Everyone saw it.
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
Dom leaned forward.
“Think carefully.”
“I don't.”
I looked at her.
“Have you ever met my mother?”
Celia froze.
Dom turned toward me.
“Why did you ask that?”
“Because she reacted.”
Celia stood.
“I need to leave.”
Dom's security officers moved.
“Sit.”
Celia's voice trembled.
“You don't understand.”
Dom's expression hardened.
“Then explain.”
She looked at me.
“I knew your mother.”
My heart stopped.
“How?”
Celia swallowed.
“She worked for my father.”
Dom went still.
“Your father?”
“Yes.”
“What did she do?”
Celia looked at me.
“She was the one who stole the ledger.”
Silence.
I couldn't breathe.
“My mother?”
Celia nodded.
“And she didn't steal it for herself.”
“Then why?”
Celia's eyes filled with fear.
“Because your grandfather ordered her to.”
Dom stood.
“Why?”
Celia looked at him.
“Because he knew someone would eventually come looking for it.”
“Who?”
She looked at me.
Then whispered:
“You.”
The room went silent.
Celia continued.
“Your grandfather knew that one day they would come for the Reyes family.”
She looked at Dom.
“He made your father promise to protect his granddaughter.”
Dom's face changed.
“He never told me.”
“He couldn't.”
“Why?”
Celia's voice broke.
“Because your father was the man your grandfather trusted.”
I stared at her.
“And my mother?”
“She was the keeper.”
“The keeper of what?”
Celia looked toward the locked door.
“The ledger.”
I felt my heartbeat in my throat.
“But you said she stole it.”
“She did.”
“Where is it?”
Celia looked directly at me.
“Your mother hid it.”
“Where?”
Celia whispered:
“Inside Frank's Diner.”
My blood ran cold.
The diner.
The place where everything had started.
The place where Tommy had poisoned Dom.
The place where my mother had apparently hidden the most dangerous document in our family's history.
I looked at Dom.
He was staring at me.
Neither of us spoke.
Then his phone rang.
He answered.
His expression changed.
“What?”
He listened.
Then slowly lowered the phone.
“What happened?” I asked.
He looked at me.
“Frank's Diner is on fire.”
My stomach dropped.
“Is anyone inside?”
“No.”
“Then who started it?”
Dom's eyes hardened.
“Someone who knew exactly what was hidden there.”
He reached for his coat.
I stood.
“I'm coming.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Nema—”
“If the ledger is there, it's mine too.”
He stared at me.
Then nodded.
“Fine.”
We walked toward the elevator.
But before the doors closed, Dom looked at me.
“You understand what happens if we find it?”
“What?”
“Everything changes.”
I met his eyes.
“Maybe it already has.”
May you like
The elevator doors closed.
And somewhere beneath the smoke and flames of Frank's Diner, a thirty-year-old secret was waiting to decide who would live long enough to claim it.
