The bank downtown felt cold and overly clean, with a mix of carpet shampoo and expensive cologne that lingered in the air. The building looked familiar in a way that made my chest tighten, like I had been there as a child without understanding what was happening around me.
Jessa met me near the entrance and stayed close as we walked inside. She looked alert and serious, as if she already expected trouble.
“We are not guessing anything,” she said quietly. “We are here to confirm facts.”
At the counter, I told the banker my full name and asked about a safe deposit box. He asked for identification, and I handed it over while trying to keep my hands steady.
After checking his system, he said there was indeed a box registered under my name.
“I never opened a box here,” I said immediately.
The banker looked uncertain and replied that the account had been active for more than a year. I felt a wave of confusion because I had no memory of ever doing this.
Jessa leaned closer and said, “We need access to it today.”
The banker explained that he needed verification, including a signature match. I agreed even though I felt uneasy, because I needed answers more than comfort.
We were led into a secured vault area that felt silent and heavy, like the air itself was controlled. I signed the form while trying not to overthink it, and the banker confirmed the signature matched the one on file.
That moment made my stomach drop because I knew my identity had already been forged before.
He handed me the key to the box, and we were escorted to a private table. I opened it slowly, feeling my pulse in my throat.
Inside were documents I did not recognize, including a passport with my face but slightly incorrect details. There were financial papers, blank checks tied to a company name I had never seen, and an envelope of cash that felt out of place.
At the bottom was a black flash drive with a label that read Orion Arc backup.
Jessa immediately said, “Do not plug that in under any circumstances.”
I nodded, but I could not stop staring at it because it linked my job to whatever was happening.
I also found a folded paper hidden beneath the box lining. When I opened it, I saw handwriting that I recognized as my father’s.
The note said he tried to stop my mother, but things had already escalated and my identity was being used for access into my workplace.