Chapter 5 - The Account He FoundMy grandmother, Evelyn Harper, taught me two rules about money.
Marissa picked me up from the hospital just after two in the morning and drove me to her townhouse in Oak Park.
She took one look at the stitches and started crying.
Then she got angry.
Marissa’s anger was quieter than mine.
Which made it more dangerous.
“Tell me where he is.”
“No.”
“I just want to talk.”
“No, you want to commit a felony.”
“A misdemeanor, probably.”
“Still no.”
She wrapped me in a blanket, made tea neither of us drank, and sat across from me while I showed her the anonymous message.
The spreadsheet looked real.
But screenshots could be fabricated.
Rebecca told me the same thing when I forwarded it.
“Do not contact Harbor Ridge directly,” she warned. “Let me investigate.”
“What is Harbor Ridge?”
“A private lending company.”
“Legitimate?”
“Possibly. Private lenders vary.”
“Why would Genesis owe them money?”
“That’s what we’re going to find out.”
By sunrise, the photograph from dinner had exploded online.
I hated it.
People were zooming in on my face.
Debating what happened.
Calling Jackson a monster.
Calling me a gold digger.
Claiming the photo was staged.
Strangers inventing an entire marriage from one frozen second.
I shut my phone off.
At nine, Rebecca arrived.
She carried coffee and a legal pad.
“You look terrible.”
“Thank you.”
“You know what I mean.”
Marissa pointed at her approvingly.
“I like her.”
Rebecca sat down.
“I have two updates.”
“Good ones?”
“One good. One concerning.”
“Start good.”
“The lender for Ember House formally suspended Jackson’s application this morning.”
I exhaled.
“And the concerning?”
“Someone contacted the lender at 6:12 a.m. claiming you had reconsidered.”
I stared.
“What?”
“They said last night was a misunderstanding and asked whether the financing could proceed.”
“Who?”
“Email came from an account containing your maiden name.”
I felt cold.
“They’re impersonating me again.”
“Looks that way.”
Marissa leaned forward.
“Can they be arrested for this?”
Rebecca held up one hand.
“We’re documenting everything.”
Then she opened her laptop.
“Now Harbor Ridge.”
She turned the screen toward me.
“Genesis Bennett appears on three civil filings connected to unpaid private loans.”
“How much?”
“At least $312,000.”
That was not the $486,700 from the screenshot.
“What happened to the money?”
“We don’t know yet.”
“Could it be connected to Ember House?”
“Some of it, maybe. But the dates go back three years.”
Three years.
I thought about Genesis’s sudden vacations.
Her redesigned kitchen.
The sapphire bracelet she claimed Richard bought her.
The constant appearance of money in a household where Richard was comfortably retired but hardly wealthy.
“She’s been borrowing for three years?”
“Possibly longer.”
Rebecca clicked another document.
“This is more interesting.”
Harbor Ridge had filed a lien against property owned by Genesis.
Not her house.
A small commercial storefront she had inherited from her father.
I remembered it.
A bakery rented the space.
“What does Richard know?”
Rebecca shrugged.
“You’d have to ask him.”
As if summoned by the question, Marissa’s doorbell rang.
All three of us froze.
Marissa checked her security camera.
“It’s an older man.”
I knew before she showed me.
Richard.
He stood on the porch holding a manila envelope.
I didn’t want to see him.
But I also needed answers.
Marissa let him in.
Richard looked twenty years older than he had at dinner.
He stared at my bandage.
“I’m sorry.”
I said nothing.
He sat slowly.
“I should have stopped him.”
“Yes.”
He flinched.
“I should have stopped a lot of things.”
Rebecca introduced herself.
Richard nodded.
“I know who you are.”
That surprised me.
“How?”
“Genesis told me Victoria had hired a divorce lawyer.”
I looked at Rebecca.
She gave the slightest shake of her head.
We had not told Genesis.
Richard saw our reaction.
“She knew before last night.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
He placed the envelope on the table.
“I found this in our office after police left.”
Inside were copies of bank statements.
Loan agreements.
Emails.
And a document that made Rebecca sit forward immediately.
A power of attorney.
It carried Richard’s name.
And his signature.
But Richard was staring at it like he had never seen it before.
“I did not sign that.”
My pulse quickened.
Rebecca picked it up carefully.
“Are you certain?”
“Absolutely.”
The document gave Genesis broad authority over several accounts.
It was dated eighteen months earlier.
“What accounts?” I asked.
Richard rubbed his forehead.
“Our retirement investment account. A line of credit. Two CDs.”
“Balances?”
“Before retirement? Around $1.4 million combined.”
My mouth went dry.
“How much is there now?”
He looked at me.
“About $530,000.”
Marissa whispered, “Jesus.”
Richard’s eyes filled with shame.
“I thought the market was bad.”
Rebecca said gently, “Markets don’t usually explain that kind of loss without statements.”
“Genesis handled the mail.”
There it was.
Every family disaster begins somewhere embarrassingly ordinary.
A spouse handles the mail.
A son knows the password.
A mother says trust me.
And nobody asks another question.
Richard pushed another paper toward me.
“This was inside.”
It was an email exchange between Genesis and Jackson.
Six weeks old.
My name appeared in the first line.
Victoria won’t agree if you ask directly.
Jackson replied:
She doesn’t have to understand every detail. Once the title is transferred, we can refinance.
Then Genesis:
What if she refuses?
Jackson:
She won’t refuse me in front of the family.
My stomach turned.
They had planned the dinner.
The audience.
The pressure.
Even the assumption that I would surrender rather than make a scene.
Richard covered his face.
“I raised him.”
Nobody answered.
Then Rebecca pointed to a later email.
“Read this.”
Jackson had written:
If necessary, remind her about what happened with the consulting account. She’ll fold.
My breath stopped.
Marissa looked at me.
“What consulting account?”
I stood too quickly.
The room tilted.
Because only three people on earth knew about that account.
Me.
My accountant.
And my grandmother’s estate attorney.
Jackson was not one of them.
The consulting account held money from a business I had quietly built before my marriage.
Not millions.
But enough.
Enough to make my apartment look small.
Richard stared at me.
“What is it?”
I didn’t answer.
Rebecca did.
“Something Jackson was never supposed to know about.”
My phone buzzed.
I had turned it back on ten minutes earlier.
A message from Jackson.
We need to talk before people start digging into things neither of us wants exposed.
I read it once.
Then handed the phone to Rebecca.
She looked at me.
“Do you know what he means?”
“No.”
And for the first time since the plate hit my head, I felt something stronger than fear.
I felt curiosity.
Because Jackson had made one enormous mistake.
He thought I was afraid of secrets coming out.
May you like
I wasn’t.
But judging from the documents on Marissa’s table, his family had plenty to hide.
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