Chapter 6 : The Loan Fraud Investigation…

"INITIATING FINAL COUNTDOWN: 30 DAYS UNTIL EVENT HORIZON"

The golden symbols came on with an urgency I've not witnessed before, casting weird shadows across my bedroom walls at 3 AM.

Great timing, as always.

"Event horizon?" I mutter into my pillow. "Getting a bit dramatic there, aren't we?"

"TERMINOLOGY ACCURATE. POINT OF NO RETURN APPROACHING. PREPARATIONS AT 47% COMPLETION."

Only 47%? After everything I've done? The stockpiling, the training, the endless "strength slightly increased" notifications? My stomach churns as I sit up, fully awake now.

"What else do I need?"

Silence. Because of course, now is when the system decides to go quiet. The symbols fade to their usual dim glow, hovering at the edge of my vision like guilty butterflies.

It's been like this for days now. Ever since the 30 days to the apocalypse countdown began, the Cherub System's been different. Less chatty about Almost everything, more ominous with its rare announcements. Like it's loading or updating.

My phone buzzes on the nightstand; an email notification. Who's sending emails at 3 AM?

…

From: Daniel.Lester@FirstNationalBank.com

Subject: Meeting Request - Urgent

Priority: High

Amanda,

Please come to my office first thing tomorrow morning. This is a priority matter that requires immediate attention.

Regards,

Daniel Lester

Branch Manager

…

My blood runs cold.

Daniel doesn't do formal emails, not to me. It's always quick texts with too many emojis, or those stupid cat memes he knows I pretend to hate.

Shit. My mind is all over the place now.

The loans. The vault visits. The supply transfers… Which is it? Well, I guess I'll find out tomorrow.

Great. No pressure or anything.

I glance at my phone again, at Daniel's too-formal email. In a few hours, I have to face him, pretend everything's normal. Pretend I haven't been using his credentials to prepare for an apocalypse he doesn't know is coming.

"COUNTDOWN UPDATE: 13 DAYS, 20 HOURS UNTIL EVENT HORIZON"

The symbols fade to almost nothing, leaving me alone in the dark with my thoughts and a ticking clock.

Less than 2 weeks to the end of the world.

And tomorrow morning, I might.. you know what, I am going to let tomorrow morning speak for itself.

…

The bank lobby feels different this morning. Same marble floors, same potted plants, same security guards nodding hello; but everything's got this sharp edge to it, like I'm seeing it all through broken glass.

Adjusting my blazer for the hundredth time.

( I went full corporate armor today; navy suit, sensible heels, hair pulled back so tight it hurts.)

Looking professional might not stop whatever is going to happen today, but it makes me feel less like I'm walking to my execution.

"Morning, Amanda!" Janet calls from her desk, that familiar snort-laugh following someone's joke.

Our eyes meet for just a second too long.

Does she know I know? Do I know she knows I know?

Regressing makes office politics really complicated.

"TEMPORAL SIGNATURE DETECTED: CANDIDATE MILLER STRESS LEVELS ELEVATED."

Huh. So Janet's nervous too. Interesting.

The elevator ride to Daniel's floor feels endless.

Each floor's soft 'ding' might as well be a countdown to disaster.

Fourth floor: Accounting, where I first kissed Daniel during the Christmas party.

Fifth floor: HR, where Janet approved our relationship disclosure forms.

Sixth floor: Executive offices, where everything might fall apart.

The elevator doors open. Standing outside Daniel's office isn't just Daniel; it's Mr. Robertson, the General Bank Manager. The big boss. The guy who signs Daniel's paychecks and probably has the power to sign both our arrest warrants.

"Ah, Ms. Parker." Mr. Robertson's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Please, join us."

Daniel won't look at me. He's standing behind his desk like it's a shield, tie slightly crooked… he always messes with it when he's nervous.

Under different circumstances, I might feel bad for him.

"Please, sit." Mr. Robertson gestures to a chair. I sink into it, keeping my back straight, hands folded in my lap.

Professional.

Calm.

Not at all like someone who's been committing massive fraud.

"Ms. Parker," Mr. Robertson begins, his voice carefully neutral. "Are you aware of any... unusual financial activity in this branch over the past months?"

Oh.

Oh no.

"I'm not sure what you mean, sir."

"No?" He slides a folder across the desk.

"Perhaps these will refresh your memory. Six high-value loans, all processed through this branch. All approved by Mr. Lester here. All in your name."

The loans. My apocalypse preparation fund. The paper trail I never deemed necessary to cover.

"I..." Daniel starts, but Mr. Robertson cuts him off with a look.

"Mr. Lester has been... cooperative," he continues. "He's provided some very interesting information about unauthorized access to our systems. About suspicious activities in the old vault section. About large transfers of funds."

My mouth goes dry. "There must be an explanation for that," I said, trying to keep my nervousness from showing.

"Can you give me an explanation then?" His eyebrows rise. "Because right now, I'm looking at either a massive case of fraud orchestrated by my Branch Manager using an employee's identity, or..."

"I can prove that it is the other way around" Daniel caught him off.

With the look he's shooting at me, I believe he's now ready to throw me under the bus.

With whatever prove he claims to have.

( Is it just me or is something oddly familiar with this whole scenario )

...

The fluorescent lights in Daniel's office hummed like wasps trapped in glass.

His voice smooth as oil. "We should show the General Manager the underground vault."

My pen slipped. It clattered against the table, loud as a gunshot.

The vault.

The word slithered into my ribs, cold and sharp. I forced a smile, slow, deliberate, like I was stretching rubber over my face.

How much does he know?

"The vault's been decommissioned for years," I said, shrugging. " It should Just be rust and cobwebs down there."

Daniel's eyes flicked to me. Not a blink. Not a twitch. Just that infuriating half-smile, the one that said; 'I know that you are lying'

"All the more reason to inspect it," he said. "I believe its content will shed more light on the situation and help us get to the truth…"

The General Manager nodded, already standing, already buttoning his suit jacket. "If it will help this case, Lead the way."

My heels clicked against the concrete stairs, each step echoing like a countdown.

IDIOT.

I'd been so careful.

Changed the passcode myself,

Swiped the logs clean…or so I'd thought.

But Daniel's clearance was higher.

Of course it was.

His terminal could've tracked every keystroke, every midnight trip I'd made, hauling crates of antibiotics, canned food, water filters… the things no one else thought to stockpile until the sirens started wailing.

The stairwell air thickened, damp and stuffy. The GM(general manager) who had gotten a call, chatted about budget allocations.

Daniel sheepishly murmured in agreement even when it's so obvious that his not in the conversation.

I counted my breaths.

In: 1, 2, 3. Out: 1, 2, 3.

We are here… The vault door stood ahead, a slab of steel older than the building itself.

Through all this Daniel kept acting all smog… as if he finally got what he had always wanted… a way to get rid of me naturally through my own mistakes.

Daniel stepped forward, casual as a man picking out coffee. His fingers hovered.

'He actually might not know the new code,' I told myself. 'Maybe all my assumptions were wrong.' but judging as I am standing in front of the vault with Daniel and the general manager I highly doubt that.

The keypad beeped.

3-8-0-7.

Raising my eyebrow in surprise. I almost gasped.

'Wow.' That was 'my' code. The one I'd set in order to protect my doomsday supply.

I guess Daniel's admin privileges… they'd have flagged the change automatically. Sent him a notification, a log entry, a neat little receipt of my paranoia.

The panel flashed green.

The door hissed, gears groaning. I could literally feel the anticipation radiating from Daniel almost like a kid who is about to open a Christmas present.

Cold air with the smell of 'grocery aisle' seeped out as the door swung wide. The GM stepped in first.

Silence.

"Is this supposed to be some kind of a joke?" He asked Daniel With a Stern look on his face.

Daniel inched forward, a look of bewildered disappointment on his face, as if he'd just opened a PS5 box to find it full of vegetables.

Empty.

The vault yawned, cavernous and barren. No crates. No supplies. Just clean and empty.

Daniel stiffened. "This… isn't possible."

The GM clapped him on the shoulder. " son. We need to have a long talk." He turned to me, chuckling. "I am sorry that you had to be dragged into this."

I stared at the void.

Daniel's jaw worked, silent. For once, he had nothing to say.

They wandered off, voices fading. I lingered, trailing a hand along the wall.

Slowly, I smiled.

SUBSPACE STORAGE IS FULLY FUNCTIONAL.

yep, your girl is rocking her very own subspace storage.