Chapter 5: The Debt Was Never the Whole Story
Dad snatched the phone from Tyler's hand.
“Who are you?””
Derek laughed softly.
“Someone who would prefer to get paid without involving the police.””
“You've been threatening my stepson?””
“Your stepson owes me money.””
“And you've been receiving stolen money from my household?””
“I don't know anything about stolen money. I receive payments. That's all.””
Dad's jaw tightened.
“Then explain why you know about my daughter's insurance policy.””
A long silence followed.
Then Derek answered.
“Ask your wife.””
Dad looked at Vanessa.
She had gone completely still.
“She's not my wife anymore,” he said.
Derek chuckled.
“That's probably a good idea.””
The call disconnected.
Tyler immediately grabbed his phone.
“Dad, you shouldn't have said that!””
Dad turned toward him.
“What exactly have you gotten yourself involved in?””
Tyler looked terrified.
“Derek isn't just some guy who runs a betting website. He knows people.””
“Then tell the police everything.””
“You don't understand. He has pictures. Messages. He knows where I live.””
Dad walked toward him.
“Did you steal money from anyone else?””
Tyler hesitated.
“Tyler.””
He lowered his head.
“Yes.””
My stomach twisted.
“How much?””
“I don't know.””
Dad's voice became louder.
“How much?””
Tyler finally answered.
“About sixty thousand.””
Vanessa covered her mouth.
I stared at him.
“Sixty thousand dollars?””
“It wasn't all gambling!””
“Then what was it?””
Tyler paced around the office.
“I started with small bets. Then I borrowed money to recover what I lost. Derek offered to help me refinance the debt.””
Dad looked disgusted.
“By lending you more money?””
“He said I could work it off.””
“Doing what?””
Tyler said nothing.
Vanessa stepped forward.
“Tyler, tell him.””
He shook his head.
“No.””
“Tell him!””
Tyler looked at the floor.
“I helped Derek find people who wanted loans.””
Dad frowned.
“What people?””
“People who needed money quickly. He gave me a commission for introducing them.””
I felt sick.
“So you recruited people into this?””
“I didn't know everything he was doing!””
Dad rubbed his face.
“Did you introduce anyone from this family?””
Tyler looked up.
His eyes moved toward me.
I immediately felt my chest tighten.
“What?””
He swallowed.
“I didn't know it would turn into this.””
“Tyler, what did you do?””
Vanessa began crying.
“Please don't make him say it.””
Dad turned toward her.
“What did he do?””
Tyler finally spoke.
“Derek asked me about your insurance policy.””
I stared at him.
“My insurance?””
“He knew you had medical expenses. He knew your father had been saving money for your treatment.””
Dad went rigid.
“How?””
Tyler looked at Vanessa.
“She told me.””
The room became unbearably quiet.
Vanessa shook her head.
“I never told him anything about the policy.””
Tyler laughed bitterly.
“You showed me the paperwork, Mom. You said the policy could be used if we needed money.””
Dad looked at her.
“You showed him my daughter's insurance documents?””
Vanessa started crying harder.
“I was only trying to understand the finances!””
I stepped forward.
“Why would Derek care about my insurance?””
Tyler looked genuinely frightened.
“Because he said there might be a way to use the policy as security.””
Dad's face turned white.
“Security for what?””
“The money he was lending me.””
I felt my knees weaken.
“So you used my life insurance as collateral for your gambling debts?””
“No! I didn't sign anything!””
“But you knew about it!””
Tyler didn't answer.
Dad immediately took out his phone and called the police.
Vanessa began pleading.
“Michael, please. Don't do this. We can fix it ourselves.””
“No.””
“Think about Tyler!””
“I have been thinking about Tyler for years. That's the problem.””
The call connected.
Dad explained that our family had discovered unauthorized financial transactions, a possible forged insurance authorization, and threats involving a third party.
The operator asked whether anyone was in immediate danger.
Dad said he wasn't sure.
While he spoke, I noticed Vanessa quietly moving toward the hallway.
“Where are you going?”” I asked.
“To get my purse.””
“Your purse is in the living room.””
She stopped.
For a moment, we stared at each other.
Then she turned around and walked back.
Dad finished the call and told us officers would come to take a statement.
Tyler began crying.
“I didn't want any of this to happen.””
I looked at him.
“You had months to stop it.””
“I thought I could win the money back.””
“You could have asked Dad for help.””
“He would've hated me.””
I shook my head.
“He hates what you've done. That's different.””
Tyler looked at me.
“Do you think I wanted you to lose your eyesight?””
I didn't answer immediately.
Then I said, “I think you wanted a car more than you cared about what happened to me.””
He lowered his head.
Dad went to the kitchen to bring me water.
For a few minutes, the house was quiet.
Then my phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
I almost ignored it.
But the message contained a photograph.
It showed me standing outside the specialist's clinic that morning.
My appointment.
My father's car.
The hospital sign behind us.
Underneath the photograph was a message.
*You should stop asking questions about the insurance policy. Your stepbrother already knows what happens when people don't pay their debts.*
I showed Dad.
His expression changed instantly.
“Don't reply.””
He took a screenshot and forwarded it to the police.
Then another message arrived.
*Ask your father why he never told you that the policy was originally supposed to pay for your treatment if you became permanently blind.*
I stared at the screen.
That couldn't be right.
Dad had told me the insurance policy was financial protection.
But the message suggested something else.
I turned toward him.
“Dad, what does permanent blindness have to do with the insurance?””
He looked at me for a long time.
Then he sat beside me.
“There's something I never explained because I didn't want you to worry.””
“What?””
He swallowed.
“When the specialist first diagnosed your condition, the insurance company offered a separate critical-illness rider.””
I frowned.
“What does that mean?””
“It meant that under certain medical circumstances, the policy could pay out a portion of the benefit while you were still alive.””
I stared at him.
“How much?””
“Up to three hundred thousand dollars.””
My phone vibrated again.
This time, it was a photograph of another document.
A medical assessment.
My name.
My date of birth.
And a signature beneath a statement claiming that my eyesight had deteriorated beyond recovery.
I looked at Dad.
“Who submitted this?””
He took the phone.
His face went completely blank.
May you like
Then he whispered:
“Vanessa.””
