“I’m at the bank,” I lied.
“Thank God.”
“There’s a problem.”
“What problem?”
“Most of my savings are tied up in certificates of deposit and retirement accounts. I don’t have fifty thousand dollars sitting in checking.”
“Break the certificate.”
“That could take three business days.”
“I don’t have three days.”
“I still own the old Ford.”
He became quiet.
“A collector offered forty-five thousand dollars for it last month. Classic trucks are valuable now.”
“How long would that take?”
His breathing already sounded stronger.
“I’d need to contact the buyer, transfer the title, and wait for his bank check to clear. Possibly two weeks.”
“Two weeks?”
“I can ask him to hurry.”
There was a pause long enough for me to hear him recalculating.
“Maybe the doctors can stabilize you until then,” I suggested. “I can provide documentation showing the truck is being sold.”
“I think that might work.”
His voice had lost most of its desperation.
“The doctor just came back. He says if I rest and take medication, I should be stable for a couple of weeks.”
“That’s fortunate.”
“Promise you’ll send me every cent after you sell it.”
“I promise,” I said. “I will send you exactly what you deserve.”
“Thank you. I have to go. A nurse is coming.”
The call ended.
I remained in the kitchen staring at the spa photograph.
Tyler had not merely lied about a medical emergency.
He had used one of a father’s deepest fears—the possibility that a child might die—to extract fifty thousand dollars.
This was no longer simple irresponsibility.
It was calculated.
I called Judy.
“I need to see you today. Bring everything the investigator found.”
Two hours later, I sat across from her desk.
Photographs, property records, bank statements, and printed emails covered the polished wood between us.
“He has been doing this for at least six months,” Judy said.
She pointed toward several filings.
“There is no technology startup. No corporation. No limited-liability company. No business license. Nothing.”
“So he has been living on Emily’s salary and my payments.”
“Yes.”
She moved another folder toward me.
“And there is more.”
Inside were records from an account held in Tyler’s name.
The balance was two hundred thousand dollars.
“Where did he get this?”
Judy slid a property document across the desk.
“He persuaded Emily to refinance the penthouse. He told her the money would be invested in his company and used to hire software developers.”