Chapter 2 - THE ACCOUNT I NEVER OPENED
Evelyn took me into the villa's library and closed the doors.
Outside, I could hear Grant arguing with Marianne.
Their voices rose and fell behind the thick walls.
I sat across from Evelyn, still wrapped in a hotel towel.
“Tell me everything.”
She placed a tablet on the desk.
“For the past nine months, someone has been moving money through accounts connected to your identity.”
“How much?”
She hesitated.
“That depends on whether we count the loans.”
My throat tightened.
“How much?”
“Just over two million dollars.”
I stared at her.
“Two million?”
“Yes.”
“But I never authorized any of it.”
“We know.”
She slid several documents toward me.
Loan applications.
Corporate guarantees.
Electronic signatures.
My name appeared everywhere.
My signature appeared too.
Except there was something wrong with every signature.
The letters were almost perfect.
Almost.
“I didn't sign these.”
“I know.”
“Then who did?”
Evelyn looked toward the closed library doors.
“Someone who has had access to your personal records, your identification documents, and your financial passwords.”
I already knew the answer.
“Grant.”
“Possibly.”
“Possibly?”
She leaned forward.
“I don't want you accusing him until we know exactly how he did it.”
Then she showed me another document.
A corporate resolution.
It transferred voting rights from my shares to a newly created holding company.
I read it twice.
My hands began to shake.
“When was this filed?”
“Three months ago.”
“Why didn't I receive notice?”
“Because the notification address was changed.”
“To what?”
Evelyn turned the tablet toward me.
I recognized the address immediately.
Marianne’s private mailbox.
I stopped breathing.
“My mother-in-law?”
Evelyn nodded.
“She has been receiving corporate notices in your name.”
The library suddenly felt colder.
Then the door opened.
Grant stood there.
“You're making a mistake.”
Evelyn didn't look at him.
“Leave.”
“This is my wife.”
“She is my client.”
Grant's jaw tightened.
“She's emotional.”
I stood.
“Don't.”
He froze.
I walked toward him.
“For years, every time I questioned something, you called me emotional.”
His expression hardened.
“Because you are.”
“No.”
I looked at the documents.
“You needed me to believe that.”
Marianne appeared behind him.
“Enough.”
I turned.
She was no longer pretending to be concerned.
Her face was cold.
“You have no idea what you're destroying.”
I smiled bitterly.
“You're right.”
I picked up the folder.
“I don't know yet.”
Then my phone buzzed.
A new message.
Unknown number.
ASK YOUR HUSBAND WHY YOUR FATHER’S SIGNATURE IS ON THE ORIGINAL LOAN.
My heart stopped.
My father had been dead for six years.
I looked at Grant.
He went completely still.
“Why,” I whispered, “is my dead father's signature on a loan I never knew existed?”
May you like
Nobody answered.
And that silence told me I had just found the real beginning.
