Chapter 7: The Account He Had No Right to Touch
"Someone requested a withdrawal authorization?""
My voice sounded strangely distant.
Robert Hayes was still speaking, but I barely heard him over the pounding in my ears.
"That's correct, Claire. The request was submitted approximately three weeks ago. It was not processed because the authorization documents were incomplete.""
"Who submitted it?""
"Your husband.""
I gripped the edge of the hotel desk.
"How did he get the account number?""
"That's what we're trying to establish. The request included your personal information and a copy of an identification document.""
I turned toward Rachel.
She had stopped eating her sandwich.
"Was money withdrawn?"" I asked.
"No. Fortunately, our compliance department flagged the request. The account requires additional verification, and the signature did not match the original records.""
I closed my eyes.
Three weeks earlier.
That was around the time Ethan had started talking about buying a bigger house for his family.
It was also around the time he had suddenly become interested in my grandmother's belongings.
"Robert, I need everything connected to that request.""
"I'll send the records to you securely. I also recommend contacting your financial institution immediately and making a formal report.""
"Please do.""
After the call, I sat completely still.
Rachel pulled her chair closer.
"Claire?""
I turned the laptop toward her.
She read the email Robert had sent while we were speaking.
Her expression changed.
"He's trying to get your inheritance?""
"It looks that way.""
"How much is in the account?""
I hesitated.
"I don't know the exact current balance. My grandmother funded it years ago, and I've rarely checked it.""
"Could it be a lot?""
"Possibly.""
I opened the investment portal using my credentials.
The balance appeared after several seconds.
<PRIVATE_PERSON>—I blinked and checked again.
$186,430.
I felt sick.
The account had grown steadily through investments and accumulated dividends.
My grandmother had built that money over decades.
And Ethan had apparently been trying to access it without telling me.
Rachel leaned back.
"That's why he wants the jewelry box.""
I looked at her.
"Maybe.""
"Claire, he knows something is there.""
I thought about the sealed envelope.
The old letter.
The trust documents.
And the fact that Ethan had gone into my office while I was away.
I immediately called the financial institution.
The representative helped me freeze outgoing transfers, reset my security credentials, and add additional verification requirements.
She also advised me to change my passwords on every account that shared similar recovery information.
When she asked whether I recognized the recent withdrawal request, I told her I did not authorize it.
She opened a formal security investigation.
By the time I ended the call, my phone had several missed calls from Ethan.
I didn't answer.
Instead, I contacted Robert again and asked him to arrange an appointment with an attorney who specialized in financial misconduct and marital property disputes.
He gave me a recommendation.
Then Rachel's phone buzzed.
She looked at the screen.
"Claire, you're not going to like this.""
"What?""
"Linda posted something on Facebook.""
She turned the phone toward me.
Linda had uploaded a photograph from the birthday weekend.
It showed Ethan standing beside the pool, holding his bourbon glass, while several relatives smiled in the background.
The caption read:
Family weekends are about laughter, love, and learning not to take life too seriously. Some people need to relax!
The comments were worse.
One aunt wrote, Ethan knows how to handle his wife.
Another said, Poor guy. He deserves a medal.
Linda replied with a laughing emoji.
Then I noticed something else.
Ethan had shared the post.
His caption read:
My wife is still mad about a little birthday prank. Guess some people can't take a joke.
I stared at the photograph.
My wet dress.
My injured shoulder.
The blood on my face.
They had turned the moment into entertainment.
Rachel reached for my hand.
"Don't read the comments.""
But I was already scrolling.
Then I saw a comment from Marcus.
Can't wait until the whole family is together in the new house.
I took a screenshot.
A few seconds later, another notification appeared.
This one was from a woman named Denise.
She was Linda's older sister.
Her comment was short.
Ethan, maybe you should explain why Claire was expected to sign documents she never saw.
I looked at Rachel.
"Who is Denise?""
"Linda's sister. She doesn't get along with her, but she's usually quiet.""
"Why would she know about the documents?""
Rachel shrugged.
"Maybe she heard something.""
I clicked Denise's profile.
Before I could read more, a private message arrived.
*Denise:* Claire, please call me. There is something about your husband's family that you need to know before you make any decisions.
I stared at the message.
Then I answered.
*Me:* What is it?
Her reply came almost immediately.
*Denise:* Not over Facebook. I have documents.
My phone rang.
Denise.
I answered.
"Claire, are you somewhere private?""
"Yes.""
"Good. I don't want Linda hearing this.""
I sat down.
"What documents do you have?""
"Bank statements. Old correspondence. Something I found while helping my sister organize her paperwork.""
"Why are you contacting me?""
Denise sighed.
"Because I think Ethan has been telling different stories to different people. And because I don't believe you're the first person he's tried to use.""
My stomach tightened.
"What do you mean?""
"Three years ago, Linda asked me for money. She said Ethan had found an investment opportunity and needed a temporary loan.""
"Did you give her money?""
"Twenty-five thousand dollars.""
I went silent.
"Did she pay you back?""
"No.""
Denise's voice broke slightly.
"She told me the money had been invested in a property. Later, I found out there was no property.""
I looked at Rachel.
She was listening with her mouth slightly open.
"Do you have proof?""
"Yes. I have the bank transfer, the messages, and a document Ethan sent me explaining the investment.""
I swallowed.
"Could you send them?""
"I can. But Claire, there's something else.""
"What?""
"The document has your name on it.""
My fingers went cold.
"Why?""
"Because Ethan told me you were managing the finances for the investment.""
I closed my eyes.
I had never heard of it.
Denise continued.
"He told me you were the person handling the accounts. He said I could trust the arrangement because you were financially responsible.""
I looked at the email from Gregory.
Then at the disputed signature.
Then at the withdrawal request.
"Denise, I need you to send me everything.""
"I will.""
She paused.
"And Claire?""
"Yes?""
"Don't tell Linda I contacted you. I think she knows more than she's admitting.""
The call ended.
For several minutes, I couldn't move.
Then Rachel whispered, "How many people has he done this to?""
I looked at the growing folder on my laptop.
"I don't know.""
A new email appeared.
Denise had sent the documents.
I opened the first attachment.
It was a bank transfer confirmation for $25,000.
The recipient account belonged to Ethan.
But the second attachment was worse.
May you like
It was a signed investment agreement.
And at the bottom, beneath Ethan's name, was mine.
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