Chapter 4: The Money in My Name
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
The hospital room suddenly felt too small.
I stared at Marcus, waiting for him to tell me I'd misunderstood.
But he didn't.
He sat beside my bed, his phone resting in his hands, his expression heavy with something that looked dangerously close to shame.
“Explain,” I said.
Marcus rubbed his forehead.
“Last spring, your father approached me about a business investment. He said your parents were having financial difficulties and needed temporary assistance.””
“My parents?””
“Yes.””
“How much?””
He hesitated.
“How much, Marcus?””
“Two hundred and forty thousand dollars.””
I felt the blood drain from my face.
“That's impossible.””
“I know.””
“Where did they get that kind of money?””
“They didn't. They borrowed it.””
I shook my head.
“From your company?””
Marcus nodded.
“But that's not the part that concerns me most.””
He opened a document on his phone and handed it to me.
It was a business loan agreement.
My full legal name appeared near the top.
Claire Bennett.
Underneath it was my signature.
Except I had never signed that document.
I zoomed in.
The signature looked almost identical to mine.
Almost.
But the final stroke was wrong.
My stomach tightened.
“Who signed this?””
Marcus looked at me.
“Your father submitted it.””
“And you accepted it?””
“I was told you had approved it. Your father said you'd discussed it with him.””
“I never discussed anything like this!””
“I understand that now.””
I stared at the document.
There was another name listed as a guarantor.
Linda Bennett.
My mother.
“Why is my name on this?””
Marcus exhaled.
“Because your father claimed you owned an interest in a property being used as collateral.””
“What property?””
He hesitated again.
“Your grandmother's house.””
I froze.
My grandmother had died four years earlier.
She'd left her house to me in her will.
My parents had always insisted that the inheritance was being handled properly.
They'd told me the property was worth very little and needed expensive repairs.
I'd never questioned them.
“Did they use my grandmother's house as collateral?””
“That's what the paperwork says.””
I closed my eyes.
For years, I'd trusted my parents to handle the estate.
I'd signed documents they'd placed in front of me, believing they were routine inheritance and tax forms.
Now I wondered how many of those papers had contained something else.
“Marcus, why didn't you tell me?””
He lowered his head.
“Because I believed the loan was legitimate. Your father told me the money would be repaid within six months. When the payments stopped, I asked him about it.””
“And?””
“He said there had been a delay.””
“When?””
“Four months ago.””
I stared at him.
“So you've known about this for four months?””
“Yes.””
“And you said nothing?””
“I didn't want to accuse your parents of fraud without proof.””
I pulled my hand away from his.
“You could have told me.””
“I know.””
“You let me believe everything was fine while my parents were using my name to borrow hundreds of thousands of dollars.””
Marcus didn't defend himself.
That somehow hurt more.
“I made a mistake,” he said quietly.
“I thought I could resolve it without bringing you into it.””
I looked down at my belly.
Our daughter shifted slightly.
A tiny movement.
I placed my hand over her.
“Nothing about this is going to be resolved without me again.””
Marcus nodded.
“You're right.””
A knock came at the door.
Detective Morgan entered with a folder.
“I'm sorry to interrupt. We've received additional information concerning the incident at the cookout.””
She glanced at Marcus.
“Are you both comfortable speaking with me?””
“Yes,” I answered.
She opened the folder.
“Your cousin Kayla provided the preliminary recording. We also have statements from several witnesses.””
“What did they say?””
“One witness confirmed that Rachel approached you from behind before the kick. Another stated that you were standing still and holding a drink when she struck you.””
I swallowed.
“Did Rachel say anything?””
Detective Morgan looked at her notes.
“She claimed you had threatened her. However, the video appears inconsistent with that account.””
Marcus leaned forward.
“There's something else you should know.””
He explained the loan.
Detective Morgan's expression became more serious.
“Are you saying someone used Claire's identity to obtain financing?””
“That's what the documents suggest.””
“Do you have copies?””
Marcus handed her his phone.
She reviewed the agreement carefully.
“I'm not going to make a legal determination based on one document, but this raises a separate concern. You should preserve all records and speak with a financial fraud attorney.””
I nodded.
Then she asked a question.
“Claire, did your parents have access to your personal documents?””
I thought about it.
“My mother kept copies of my birth certificate and Social Security card when I moved into my first apartment.””
“When was that?””
“About seven years ago.””
Detective Morgan wrote something down.
“Do you know whether they still have them?””
“I don't know.””
She closed the folder.
“One more thing. We attempted to contact your sister for a formal interview. She declined to provide a statement.””
I wasn't surprised.
But then Detective Morgan added something that made me sit upright.
“Her fiancé, Daniel, contacted us independently.””
Marcus frowned.
“Why?””
“He says Rachel told him something about the incident before it happened.””
My mouth went dry.
“What did she tell him?””
Detective Morgan looked directly at me.
“He says Rachel told him she was going to make sure you never got to enjoy your pregnancy.””
The room fell silent.
I stared at the detective.
“Before she kicked me?””
“Yes.””
Marcus stood.
“Did he say when?””
“Approximately two days before the cookout.””
My fingers tightened around the bedsheet.
Two days.
That meant the kick hadn't been a spontaneous reaction.
It had been discussed.
Planned.
And possibly connected to something much larger than jealousy.
Detective Morgan stood.
“We'll follow up with him.””
After she left, Marcus sat beside me again.
He reached for my hand.
This time, I let him take it.
Not because everything was forgiven.
Because I needed him to understand that we were now facing something much bigger than a family argument.
My phone vibrated.
A message from Rachel.
*Rachel:* I heard you've been telling people lies about me.
Another message followed.
*Rachel:* You need to stop before you destroy this family.
Then a photograph appeared.
It showed a document with my name printed across the top.
I zoomed in.
It was a property transfer agreement.
My grandmother's house.
And beneath my name was a signature I had never written.
May you like
The message beneath it was only six words.
*Rachel:* Dad already transferred the house.
