Chapter 6 - MY SIGNATURE ON A MILLION-DOLLAR TRANSFER
I drove straight to Rebecca Sloan’s office.
By noon, we had forensic accountants reviewing the foundation.
By 2:00, the first conclusion arrived.
My signature had been forged at least six times.
The $1.8 million was not one transfer.
It was twelve.
Each small enough to look routine.
Each categorized differently.
“Patient technology support.”
“Clinical access partnership.”
“Education grant.”
Names designed to sound charitable.
Money that ultimately reached Northbridge or affiliated entities.
Rebecca looked at me.
“We need to notify the foundation board.”
“Yes.”
“And possibly law enforcement.”
I nodded.
“What about Callum?”
“Do not confront him yet.”
That was becoming the hardest part.
Sleeping beside a man while gathering evidence that he had used my name to move money.
At 4:10, our forensic accountant called.
She had found something else.
A transfer into the foundation.
Not out.
$650,000.
Sender:
Ashford Family Holdings.
My personal investment company.
I stared.
“I never sent that.”
Rebecca frowned.
“Who manages the account?”
“My adviser.”
“And who else has emergency authority?”
I already knew.
Callum.
Marriage had made certain emergency planning seem sensible.
If I was hospitalized or unreachable, Callum could access specific family accounts.
Not freely.
Only under defined circumstances.
Except someone had activated emergency authority eighteen months earlier.
Reason:
CLAIRE ASHFORD MEDICALLY INCAPACITATED.
I laughed.
“I wasn’t incapacitated.”
Rebecca’s face darkened.
The supporting medical certification came from Hawthorne Ridge.
Physician:
Dr. Julian Cross.
The hospital CEO was not even a treating physician in my care.
“How did they justify this?”
A hospital admission record.
My name.
My date of birth.
Diagnosis:
Acute neurological episode.
Three-day hospitalization.
I had never been hospitalized on those dates.
I was in Boston attending my cousin’s wedding.
I had photographs.
Hotel receipts.
Plane tickets.
Someone had created a false medical record in my name to trigger Callum’s emergency financial authority.
Rebecca looked genuinely alarmed now.
“This is identity fraud.”
“And hospital fraud.”
“Yes.”
Then she leaned closer.
“Claire, whoever did this had access to your personal data, the hospital record system, your foundation accounts, and Callum’s emergency authority.”
“Callum.”
“Possibly.”
“Who else?”
“Julian Cross.”
That name again.
My phone buzzed.
Callum.
Dinner tonight? I can be home early.
I stared at the message.
Rebecca asked:
“What are you going to do?”
“Have dinner with my husband.”
Her eyebrows rose.
“Why?”
“Because I want to know what he does when he thinks I still know nothing.”
That evening, Callum arrived with flowers.
White lilies.
My favorite.
He kissed me.
Opened wine.
Asked about my day.
Then he said:
“I heard you called the foundation accountant.”
My hand stopped around my glass.
He smiled gently.
“Anything I should know?”
I looked directly at him.
Before I could answer, his phone lit up on the table.
A message preview appeared.
May you like
JULIAN CROSS:
SHE FOUND THE FALSE ADMISSION.
