Chapter 5: The Warning
I took a screenshot of the message before I did anything else.
Then I walked to the living room and said Stan's name once, not loudly.
He was awake immediately.
Not the slow, confused waking of someone pulled from sleep.
Alert.
Eyes open, focused, sitting up in one motion.
"What happened?" he said.
I held out my phone.
He read the message.
His expression didn't change much — a slight tightening around the jaw, a stillness in his eyes that hadn't been there a moment before.
"When did this come in?"
"Two minutes ago."
He handed the phone back.
"Forward it to this address." He recited an email from memory.
"That's my lawyer, Diane.
She'll need it."
"Stan." I sat down in the armchair across from him.
"Your father just threatened both of us."
"Yes."
"That doesn't alarm you?"
"It tells me we're closer than he'd like." He ran a hand through his hair.
"He doesn't threaten people when he's comfortable.
He only does this when something is about to move."
"What's about to move?"
"We filed a formal complaint with the SEC six days ago," he said.
"Diane thinks they'll open a preliminary inquiry within the week.
Gerald will have heard about it by now through someone inside — he always does."
I looked at him.
"You filed six days ago," I said.
"While living in my apartment."
"Yes."
"And you didn't think to mention that we might receive threatening text messages?"
"I didn't think he'd move this fast." A pause.
"I'm sorry.
That's not good enough, but it's true."
I stood up and went to the window.
The street below was quiet.
Ordinary.
I scanned it anyway, which told me something about what that message had done to me.
"My father called Gerald Merritt's bluff," I said.
"He told me everything this morning."
Stan went very still.
"He told you."
"That Gerald pressured them into the marriage condition.
That he wanted you managed.
That my parents have been trapped for years." I turned around.
"Were you going to tell me?"
"Yes," he said.
"Last night.
And then you looked at the documents and I could see you were already at your limit, so I waited."
"Don't do that again," I said.
"Don't decide what I can handle."
"You're right." No argument.
No qualification.
Just that.
I sat back down.
"My father has documents he signed," I said.
"Things Gerald could use against him.
Is that part of your case?"
"It's complicated.
Your father is technically an accessory to some of what Gerald built.
But he's also a victim of coercion.
Diane thinks if he cooperates fully — provides testimony, hands over everything he has — he can likely avoid prosecution.
Likely."
"Likely," I repeated.
"I won't lie to you about the risk."
I looked at my hands.
"If I ask my father to cooperate," I said, "and something goes wrong — if Gerald finds a way to use those documents anyway — my parents could lose everything."
"Yes."
"And if your father's case falls apart without my father's testimony?"
Stan was quiet for a moment.
"Gerald walks," he said.
"The pension fraud gets buried.
Three thousand people never see that money again.
And Gerald starts over somewhere else."
The room was very quiet.
"So the choice is," I said slowly, "protect my parents and let three thousand strangers lose their retirement savings.
Or ask my parents to take a risk that could destroy them — to protect people they've never met."
"That's one way to frame it," Stan said.
"Is there another way?"
He looked at me steadily.
"You could let me handle it without your father," he said.
"It would be harder.
It might not be enough.
But I would never ask you to put your family at risk for my case."
I looked at him for a long time.
"You've been sleeping on my couch for a month," I said.
"Cooking my dinners.
Filing federal complaints from my kitchen table.
And you wouldn't ask me for the one thing that might actually matter."
"No," he said simply.
My phone buzzed again.
Same unknown number.
This time it wasn't a text.
It was a photo.
It was my parents' house.
Taken from outside.
Last night, judging by the porch light.
May you like
Someone had been standing in their driveway in the dark, pointing a camera at their front door.
My hands were not steady when I forwarded it to Diane.
