Chapter 3
I didn't sleep that night.
I sat in my home office until sunrise, replaying Denise's words.
"He still doesn't know about the papers."
I tried to convince myself there was a simple explanation.
Maybe she meant insurance documents.
Maybe she was planning something financial that had nothing to do with my mother.
But I couldn't forget the warning in her eyes.
And I couldn't forget how Mom had flinched whenever Denise spoke.
At seven in the morning, I went downstairs.
My mother was already in the kitchen.
She was reaching toward the dishwasher.
"Mom."
She jerked backward.
"I'm sorry!"
I froze.
Those two words hurt more than any argument.
"Why are you apologizing?"
She pressed one hand against her chest.
"I thought I should get started before everyone woke up."
I walked over and gently closed the dishwasher.
"No more chores."
"But—"
"No more."
I pulled out a chair.
"Sit with me."
She obeyed slowly.
I poured her a cup of tea and sat across from her.
"Mom, I heard Denise talking about some papers last night."
The color drained from her face.
Her cup rattled against the saucer.
"What papers?" I asked.
She didn't answer.
"Did she ask you to sign something?"
Her eyes filled with tears.
I leaned forward.
"Mom?"
"She said you wanted me to."
My heart began pounding.
"Wanted you to do what?"
She looked toward the stairs.
I followed her gaze.
"Denise isn't here. She left early this morning."
My mother swallowed.
"She brought me some documents last week."
"What documents?"
"She said they were for my medical care."
I felt a cold sensation spread through my chest.
"Did you read them?"
She shook her head.
"The print was small. My glasses were broken."
"How did they break?"
She stared at her tea.
"Denise knocked them off the table."
"Accidentally?"
Mom didn't answer.
I forced myself to remain calm.
"Did you sign the papers?"
"She told me you needed them signed immediately."
I gripped the edge of the table.
"What exactly did she say?"
Mom began crying.
"She said if I refused, you might have to send me somewhere else."
I couldn't move.
"Somewhere else?"
"A nursing home."
I stared at her.
"Mom, I would never threaten you with that."
"I know that now."
"No. Listen to me. You never have to sign anything just to stay here."
She nodded through tears.
"Where are the papers?"
"Denise took them."
"Did anyone else see you sign?"
"A man came to the house."
I sat straighter.
"What man?"
"He wore a gray suit. Denise called him Mr. Collins."
My stomach dropped.
I knew that name.
Robert Collins was a financial adviser Denise had introduced me to at a dinner party.
He'd offered to help us reorganize our investments.
I'd declined.
He was smooth, confident, and strangely interested in my mother's old property.
"Did Mr. Collins explain the documents?"
Mom shook her head.
"He just pointed where I should sign."
I stood so quickly my chair scraped the floor.
Then I stopped.
My mother was trembling.
I sat back down.
"Mom, I'm going to ask you something important."
She nodded.
"Have you noticed any money missing from your bank account?"
Her eyes widened.
"I don't know."
"Why not?"
"Denise said online banking was too confusing for me. She offered to handle it."
I felt physically sick.
My mother received retirement benefits and a modest pension.
She also owned the small house where she'd lived for forty years.
The same house my father had helped build.
"Do you still have your bank card?"
Mom looked toward her cardigan pocket.
Then she shook her head.
"Denise keeps it safe."
I stood.
"Come with me."
"Where?"
"To the bank."
An hour later, we sat across from a branch manager named Mrs. Patterson.
My mother gave permission for her accounts to be reviewed.
I watched the manager's expression change as she examined the screen.
"Mrs. Evelyn, do you recognize these transfers?"
Mom leaned forward.
"What transfers?"
The manager turned the monitor slightly.
I saw the amounts.
$1,800.
$2,400.
$3,100.
And then one transfer that made my stomach drop.
$18,500.
"Who received that money?" I asked.
Mrs. Patterson looked at Mom.
"These payments went to an account belonging to D. Reynolds Consulting."
Denise's maiden name was Reynolds.
My blood went cold.
"How much in total?"
The manager scrolled.
"Over the past four months, approximately forty-three thousand dollars."
My mother gasped.
"That's impossible."
I reached for her hand.
Mrs. Patterson continued carefully.
"There is also a recently submitted request involving the property held in your name."
"What request?"
"A loan application secured against your residence."
I stared at her.
"My mother's house?"
"Yes."
Mom began shaking.
"But I never asked for a loan."
Mrs. Patterson's face became serious.
"We haven't approved it. Our review team placed a hold because some information didn't match our records."
I leaned forward.
"Who submitted the application?"
She checked the file.
"An authorized representative named Robert Collins."
My mother whispered, "That's the man."
I pulled out my phone.
I called Denise.
She answered on the third ring.
"Marcus, I'm busy."
"Where's my mother's money?"
Silence.
Then she laughed nervously.
"What are you talking about?"
"Forty-three thousand dollars."
Another silence.
"Marcus, don't do this over the phone."
"Did you take it?"
"I was managing household expenses."
"From my mother's retirement account?"
"You're overreacting."
"And why is Robert Collins trying to get a loan against her house?"
Denise inhaled sharply.
I heard another voice in the background.
A man's voice.
Then she whispered something away from the phone.
"Denise?"
She came back.
"You need to go home. Right now."
"Answer me."
Her voice changed.
Cold.
Controlled.
"Marcus, you have no idea what you're getting involved in."
The call ended.
I stared at the screen.
Mrs. Patterson quietly handed us the printed transaction history.
"Mr. Marcus, I recommend that your mother speak with an attorney immediately."
I nodded.
Then my phone vibrated.
A text from Denise.
There was no apology.
No explanation.
Just seven words.
"Keep digging, and your mother loses everything."
I looked at Mom.
She was holding the bank statement against her chest.
Her whole body was shaking.
May you like
And I knew our fight had just become something much bigger than a marriage.
Someone was trying to steal my mother's entire life.
