Chapter 4 - The Aftermath at Mason’s Place
By evening, the city lights were twinkling across the skyline as I pulled into the parking lot of Mason’s apartment complex. The drive from my childhood home had taken thirty minutes, during which my phone had buzzed continuously with missed calls and frantic text messages.
Mom. Uncles I hadn't spoken to in years. Cousins demanding to know what "horrible thing" I had done to ruin Jacob’s life.
I didn't answer a single one. I simply went into my phone settings, selected a master list of family numbers, and tapped Block Contact.
When I walked through Mason’s front door, the smell of garlic butter and grilled steak hit me instantly. Mason was standing by the stove flipping ribeyes in a cast-iron skillet, a cold IPA resting on the counter beside him. He looked over his shoulder, taking in my calm expression, the unzipped laptop bag over my shoulder, and the utter lack of panic in my posture.
“Well?” Mason asked, turning down the burner. “Did you survive the family circus?”
I tossed my keys onto the entryway table, dropped my laptop bag onto the couch, and let out a long, shuddering breath—the first truly deep breath I felt like I had taken in two years.
“They tried to pin a seventeen-thousand-dollar loan on me,” I said quietly, walking over to the kitchen island and pulling a beer from the fridge. “Jacob got engaged to Alyssa in my old living room. And... the police arrested them both for financial fraud before the champagne was even warm.”
Mason froze, the spatula hovering inches above the steak. His eyes widened into dinner plates. He stared at me for three full seconds before letting out a sharp, disbelieving whistle.
“Holy mother of God,” Mason whispered, shaking his head. “You actually dropped the hammer.”
“I didn't drop anything,” I replied, taking a long, cold sip of the IPA. “I just stopped holding up the roof they built out of lies. Gravity did the rest.”
Mason walked over, grabbed his beer, and clinked his bottle against mine with a grin that stretched from ear to ear. “To gravity,” he toasted. “Man, I wish I had popcorn for this. What did your mom say?”
“Nothing. She tried to block the door when the detectives arrived, but realized pretty quickly that screaming at federal investigators doesn't work the same way it worked on my teachers in high school.” I sank into the plush leather sofa, feeling the physical exhaustion of the day finally catch up to my muscles. “They’re looking at serious prison time, Mason. The loan forgery wasn't just a casual mistake; it crossed state banking lines because the regional bank’s processing server was out of state. That kicks it up to federal wire fraud.”
Mason leaned against the back of the couch, his expression turning more serious. “And you? Are you legally protected? Could they try to pin anything back on you?”
“Not a chance,” I said, pulling out my laptop and opening a secure folder. “I filed formal affidavits with the bank, the police department, and the credit bureaus before I left the house. My credit is frozen, my identity theft report is logged with the FTC, and every single digital receipt—from the IP logs to the text messages where Mom thanked me for ‘making everything happen behind the scenes’—is in the hands of investigators.”
Mason nodded slowly, whistling low through his teeth. “You played chess while they were playing tic-tac-toe with crayons. So... what’s next, Ethan? You’re officially free.”
May you like
I looked around Mason’s clean, quiet living room. No screaming parents. No golden-child brother demanding my money or my fiancée. No walking on eggshells. For the first time in my adult life, my time, my finances, and my peace of mind belonged entirely to me.
“Next?” I smiled, feeling a genuine sense of anticipation warm my chest. “I’m taking a three-week vacation. Somewhere without cell service. And then... I’m starting fresh.”
