Chapter 5 - THE SIGNATURE
Robert refused to explain over the phone.
He said Patricia was in the next room.
He said Ethan was watching everyone.
He said he would contact me again.
Then he disconnected.
Rebecca immediately hired a forensic accountant.
His name was Marcus Bell.
He was not dramatic.
I liked him for that.
For six hours, he studied my accounts.
By evening, he found the first irregularity.
A company called Northstar Family Consulting had received monthly transfers from one of the household accounts.
Each transfer was small enough to escape my attention.
12,000 pesos.
18,000.
9,500.
21,000.
Over fourteen months, the total exceeded 260,000 pesos.
“Do you recognize the company?” Marcus asked.
“No.”
He searched the registration.
The owner was Ethan.
I stared at the screen.
“What consulting?”
Marcus shrugged.
“None that I can find.”
The company had no website.
No employees.
No obvious clients.
Just incoming money.
Most of it came from accounts funded by me.
Then Marcus found a loan.
My stomach dropped.
Northstar had borrowed against a personal guarantee supposedly signed by both Ethan and me.
The document contained my signature.
It looked perfect.
Because it was my signature.
Copied.
Digitally reproduced.
Placed onto a document I had never seen.
“How much?” I asked.
Marcus looked at Rebecca.
Then at me.
“1.8 million pesos.”
For several seconds, the room seemed completely silent.
“What did he do with it?”
“We’re tracing that now.”
My phone rang.
Chloe.
I declined it.
She called again.
Then sent a message.
You’re disgusting. Dad’s medication card got declined because of you.
I stared at it.
Robert’s medication had always been paid directly from a separate account.
That account remained active.
They were lying again.
I forwarded the message to Rebecca.
She smiled faintly.
“Good.”
“What’s good about it?”
“They’re getting careless.”
That evening, Ethan appeared on social media.
Not his page.
Chloe’s.
She posted a video of him sitting in the apartment kitchen.
He looked exhausted.
Heartbroken.
Concerned.
It was excellent acting.
“My wife has taken our daughter,” he said quietly.
“Right now, I don’t want anger. I just want Sophie safe.”
Comments flooded underneath.
Praying for you.
A child needs her father.
Money changes people.
Chloe added her own caption.
Imagine financially abusing an entire family because someone questioned your parenting.
My first instinct was rage.
Rebecca’s was completely different.
“Download it.”
“What?”
“Every second.”
Ethan continued speaking.
“My mother has cared for Sophie almost every day for years. She fed her, bathed her, loved her.”
I looked at Rebecca.
She nodded.
“He’s establishing Patricia as caregiver again.”
Then Ethan made his mistake.
“My wife was rarely there.”
Rebecca paused the video.
“Perfect.”
I stared at her.
“How is that perfect?”
“Because you were there.”
She pulled up my calendar.
“I want every flight.”
Then my credit card history.
“Every school pickup.”
Then medical records.
“Every appointment.”
Then photographs.
“Every bedtime picture.”
For years, I had worried that my business travel made me less of a mother.
Now we reconstructed the numbers.
I traveled approximately seven nights per month.
Not twenty.
Not twenty-five.
Seven.
During most trips, Sophie was in preschool during the day.
I handled doctor visits.
Parent meetings.
Weekends.
Bedtime whenever I was home.
Ethan’s own work schedule showed late evenings and frequent recreational trips.
He was absent more waking hours than I was.
His narrative depended on emotion.
Mine depended on records.
And records were beginning to look better.
At 10:16 p.m., Marcus called.
“We found where part of the loan went.”
“Where?”
“Acapulco.”
I frowned.
“A property?”
“A deposit.”
“For what?”
“A condominium.”
My breath caught.
Then I remembered Chloe laughing over the lobster.
This is better than Acapulco.
I had assumed she meant a vacation.
Marcus continued.
“The purchaser listed on the preliminary contract is Ethan.”
My husband had borrowed money using my forged signature.
Then used it to buy himself property.
But Marcus wasn’t finished.
“Elena, there’s another name.”
“Whose?”
He told me.
May you like
And suddenly the betrayal became much worse.
The second purchaser was Patricia.
