Chapter 4 - The BetrayalI stared at the paper in my hands while the paramedics carefully stabilized Lena's arm with a temporary splint.
It was a second mortgage application against the house—a two-hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollar equity loan—dated four months ago. At the bottom, beside Travis's bold signature, was a clumsy, forged copy of my daughter's signature.
And right beneath it was an urgent Notice of Default from the lender, threatening immediate asset seizure due to three consecutive missed payments.
"He leveraged the house without her knowing," I murmured, my blood boiling all over again.
Derek nodded grimly, leaning against the doorframe. "I checked the desk in the office while waiting for the paramedics. Travis has three active gambling accounts registered offshore. He’s down almost three hundred grand."
"She didn't know any of this," I said, looking back at Lena in the kitchen. She was crying softly as the paramedic checked her vital signs. "She thought they were doing fine. He controlled all the banking."
"She found out today," Derek said. "The mail came at noon. When she confronted him with the default notice, he snapped."
A tall, sharp-featured police detective stepped into the foyer, holding a notepad. His badge read Detective Miller.
"Mr. Ellis?" Detective Miller addressed me, extending a hand. "I'm the lead investigator on this domestic call. The paramedics are going to transport your daughter to Ridgefield Memorial for X-rays and treatment. We need formal statements from both of you."
"I'll give you a statement right now," I said, handing him the loan default notice. "And I want financial fraud and grand larceny added to the domestic violence and assault charges."
Detective Miller examined the document, his brow pulling down into a hard line. "This is a forged secondary mortgage."
"My daughter didn't sign that," I stated clearly. "Her signature was forged while she was working full-time at my firm. Check the IP address used for the digital notary stamp—it will trace straight back to Travis's laptop."
"We'll impound all digital devices in the home under a search warrant," Detective Miller assured me. He looked over at Derek. "And who are you, sir?"
"Derek Ellis," my brother replied calmly. "I'm the uncle who received the emergency call while my niece was being held hostage."
Detective Miller looked at the dented drywall, the shattered front lock, and then back at Derek. "You kicked the door down, Mr. Ellis."
"I heard a woman screaming for her life inside a house where a man had a weapon," Derek said smoothly, his tone entirely devoid of panic or defensiveness. "Exigent circumstances, Detective. I acted to prevent an ongoing felony assault."
Detective Miller stared at Derek for a long three seconds. A subtle, approving flick of a smile touched the detective's lips before he closed his notepad.
"Exigent circumstances indeed," Detective Miller agreed softly. "Let's get your daughter to the hospital, Mr. Ellis. My team will clear this crime scene."
As they wheeled Lena out to the ambulance on a gurney, Travis watched from the back of the police cruiser across the street. His face was pale, his hands cuffed behind his back.
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I walked right up to the cruiser's window. Travis shrank back against the door, refusing to meet my eyes.
"You thought she was alone, Travis," I said through the glass, my voice as cold as ice. "You thought she had no one to protect her. By the time my lawyers and the DA are done with you, you won't even have a name left."
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