Chapter 5 - THE SIGNATURE
I stared at the screen.
Tomorrow.
The transaction had been approved before it happened.
“That makes no sense.”
“It shouldn't,” Darcy said.
“Who authorized it?”
“The bank system lists you.”
“I didn't.”
“I know.”
“Then someone has access to my identity.”
Darcy nodded.
“Or someone has been preparing this for a long time.”
The room felt suddenly colder.
I thought about every time Julian had asked for my phone.
Every time he had handled our tax documents.
Every time he insisted on managing passwords.
Every time he had told me I was overreacting when I questioned a financial statement.
I whispered, “He had access.”
Darcy didn't disagree.
But then she pointed at the transaction.
“There is something else.”
“What?”
“The authorization came from a device registered to a different person.”
“Who?”
Darcy rotated the monitor toward me.
I saw the name.
Eleanor Whitmore.
My husband's mother.
I almost laughed.
“She stole from me?”
“Possibly.”
“But why would she transfer $2.4 million?”
Darcy leaned forward.
“Because she wasn't transferring it to herself.”
The recipient account appeared beneath the transaction.
Victor Hale.
I stared at the name.
Then another notification appeared.
A second transaction.
$800,000.
Same recipient.
Same authorization.
I felt sick.
“They're draining the trust.”
“Yes.”
“Can we stop it?”
Darcy's eyes hardened.
“I'm already on it.”
She made three calls.
Within an hour, the transfers were frozen.
But the damage had already been done.
Someone had accessed the trust.
Someone knew exactly where the money was.
Someone had forged my signature.
And someone wanted me to look responsible.
Darcy looked at me.
“This isn't just financial fraud anymore.”
“What is it?”
“A setup.”
“For what?”
She hesitated.
“To make you look like you stole your own inheritance.”
My phone buzzed.
A text message.
Unknown number.
You should have taken the $28,000.
Another message arrived.
Now you're going to lose everything.
Then a photograph appeared.
I opened it.
It showed Julian entering a hotel.
With another woman.
But that wasn't the shocking part.
The woman wasn't his mistress.
It was someone I recognized.
My own accountant.
I stared at the photograph.
Darcy saw my face.
“Who is she?”
I whispered her name.
Darcy immediately picked up the phone.
“Don't contact her.”
“Why?”
“Because if she's involved, she may know we're watching.”
The phone buzzed again.
One final message appeared.
Ask your grandmother why she never trusted your mother.
I stopped breathing.
My mother had died when I was twelve.
My grandmother had always told me she was the safest person in our family.
Now I wondered whether that had been another lie.
May you like
And for the first time, I realized the secret might not have started with Julian.
It might have started with my own family.
