My phone buzzed constantly. Texts from cousins I hadn’t heard from in years. Messages from old classmates who’d always found Cass suspicious. Strangers who’d somehow gotten my number asking, in the most casual tone imaginable, if it was true my sister stole half a million dollars.
I didn’t answer strangers.
I did answer the bank.
Because while the internet was feasting, the mortgage was still legally tied to me.
Horizon Lending didn’t care about our family drama. They cared about money. They cared about the paper trail that said Elena Carter bought a luxury house in July and missed payments by April.
I spent my lunch break on the phone with their fraud department, my voice measured, my notes organized. I sent them the police report. The case number. The detective’s contact info. I requested a fraud hold, a review, anything that would stop the foreclosure machine from rolling over my life.
“We’ll investigate,” the representative said, the same calm tone as Megan. “But until the matter is resolved, the account remains in your name.”