My Best Friend Claimed I Was Imagining Hearing Porcelain Footsteps In My Bedroom—Then An 1884 Doll Revealed His $850,000 Secret
👉 [Previous Decision]: You chose Option A – to intercept Tobias Drake at the central land registry office.
The central land registry office buzzed with the low murmur of clerks and the rustle of old documents. I arrived early, staking out the entrance. Tobias Drake was a creature of habit, Evelyn had told me; he preferred to finalize his shady dealings amidst the legitimate hustle of public records.
An hour later, a man with thinning hair and a too-expensive suit walked in, carrying a slim briefcase. Tobias Drake. His eyes scanned the room, a flicker of unease crossing his face, even in a crowded public space. He was clearly accustomed to operating in shadows.
I approached him, holding up a copy of the falsified appraisal report Evelyn had given me. “Mr. Drake? A word.”
He stopped dead, his face draining of color. He tried to brush past me, but I stepped into his path.
“This document,” I said, keeping my voice level, “claims I’m mentally unfit. You signed it. And you’re about to present it to Marcus as official.”
Drake’s eyes darted around the bustling lobby. He gripped his briefcase tighter. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I merely perform my professional duties.”
“Professional duties that include accepting twelve thousand dollars from Marcus to destroy my career?” I pressed, pulling out a printout of the ledger entry Evelyn provided. “Or is it the eighty-five thousand dollar kickback for signing off on my mental incompetence by Friday that makes it professional?”
His jaw went slack. His gaze fell on the printout, specifically the details of the kickback agreement Evelyn had painstakingly uncovered. The specificity of the number, $85,000, hit him hard. He began to sweat, a bead tracing a path down his temple.
“Marcus… Marcus promised it would be clean,” he stammered, his voice cracking. “He said you were already half-mad, Julian. Just signing off on what was already happening.”
“It’s not clean, Mr. Drake,” I said, leaning closer. “It’s fraud. And I have the evidence. This document, combined with Marcus’s ledger, will ruin you. And your license.”
He looked at the papers, then at me, then back to the crowded room. The legal exposure was clearly a greater threat than Marcus’s wrath.
“I can’t… I can’t go through with it,” he choked out, fear twisting his features. “The papers… Marcus promised me the eighty-five thousand if I got them approved by Friday. He needed it fast, said he had an urgent payment to make.”
Urgent payment. Gambling debts. Marcus’s desperation was a bottomless pit.
“Cancel the audit,” I instructed, my voice firm. “And tell Marcus you need more time. Eighty-five thousand dollars isn’t enough to destroy your life.”
Drake nodded frantically, already pulling out his phone. He looked utterly terrified, a puppet whose strings had just been cut. He had tried to hide his greed, but now it was exposed, costing him far more than he had hoped to gain.
➡️ Read Chapter 8 to continue the story
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