Brandon’s messy handwriting was all over the fake co-signer forms.

I also had the name of the loan officer who had approved the files without verifying my identity.

The university dean of graduate studies, Dean Vance, was known for being a strict, no-nonsense administrator.

She was also a close friend of my late grandmother.

I pulled up the university directory on my laptop and searched for her office hours.

She was scheduled to be in her office at eight-thirty tomorrow morning.

If the bank wouldn’t help me, and the courts were too slow, I had to go directly to the source of authority.

I had to show the dean exactly why my funds were frozen.

I had to expose my own brother to the university administration to save my own skin.

My phone buzzed again, the screen lighting up the dark room.

I reached for it, thinking it was Arthur.

But the number on the screen was unrecognized.

I swiped to answer.

“Hello?” I said.

“Ava,” a voice said on the other end, low and hurried.

It wasn’t my father, and it wasn’t Brandon.