Chapter 4
I returned home at eight the next morning.
Rachel kept Sophie.
That was nonnegotiable.
Melissa stood in the driveway wearing yesterday’s clothes.
Her eyes were swollen.
She didn’t try to hug me.
“Garage,” I said.
She nodded.
We walked around the side of the house.
Melissa unlocked the door.
The smell hit first.
Cardboard.
Leather.
Perfume.
Plastic packaging.
Then she switched on the lights.
I stopped.
Boxes were stacked almost to the ceiling.
Dozens of them.
Maybe hundreds.
“What is this?”
“My inventory.”
I stared at her.
“You said you never received most of it.”
“I didn’t.”
She opened one box.
Inside were handbags.
Designer logos covered them.
I picked one up.
Even I could tell something was wrong.
The stitching was uneven.
The hardware felt cheap.
“These are fake.”
Melissa nodded.
My stomach dropped.
“How much did you pay for this?”
“About twelve thousand.”
I nearly laughed from disbelief.
“You spent twelve thousand dollars on counterfeit handbags?”
“I didn’t know they were fake.”
“Then why are they hidden?”
“Because when I found out, I panicked.”
I walked farther inside.
There were shoes.
Sunglasses.
Belts.
Perfume.
Dozens of packages.
Then I noticed something else.
Shipping labels.
Names.
Addresses.
Customer orders.
“You sold these?”
“Some.”
“After you knew?”
“No!”
Her answer came too quickly.
I picked up a printed email.
REFUND REQUEST.
Another.
ITEM REPORTED COUNTERFEIT.
Another.
NOTICE OF DISPUTE.
“This can become a criminal problem.”
“I know.”
“How long have you known?”
“Two months.”
I felt sick.
“Is that why Derek has leverage over you?”
“He supplied everything.”
“Then report him.”
Melissa gave a hollow laugh.
“You think I haven’t thought of that?”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because he has messages.”
“What messages?”
“Me asking him to send more products after customers complained.”
I stared at her.
“You kept buying?”
“I thought the first batch was a mistake.”
“No.”
I shook my head.
“You didn’t want to admit you were losing money.”
Tears appeared in her eyes.
“I was trying to fix it.”
“You keep saying that.”
Because it was her favorite excuse.
Every bad decision became an attempted solution to the previous one.
Every lie was supposedly meant to repair another lie.
She stepped around a stack of boxes.
“That still isn’t everything.”
I almost didn’t want to hear it.
“What else?”
She reached behind a shelving unit and pulled out a small metal lockbox.
My father’s lockbox.
I recognized it instantly.
He had given it to me years ago.
“Why do you have that?”
Melissa opened it.
Empty.
My chest tightened.
“There was cash in there.”
“I know.”
“Three thousand dollars.”
“I know.”
I stared at her.
That money had belonged to my father.
Emergency cash he gave me shortly before he died.
I had kept it untouched.
Not because I needed it.
Because it reminded me of him.
“You took Dad’s money.”
Melissa started crying.
“I’m sorry.”
I stepped away.
That hurt differently.
The other money made me furious.
This felt personal.
Sacred.
“You knew what that meant to me.”
“I was desperate.”
“You could have asked.”
“You would have said no.”
“Yes.”
My voice cracked.
“Because it wasn’t yours.”
Her phone rang.
She looked at the screen and froze.
Derek.
“Answer it,” I said.
“No.”
“Put it on speaker.”
“Adam—”
“Answer.”
Her trembling finger touched the screen.
“Hello?”
A man’s voice came through.
“You got my money?”
Melissa glanced at me.
“No.”
The voice hardened.
“Then why is your husband freezing accounts?”
My eyes narrowed.
How did he know that?
Melissa whispered, “I told you I need time.”
“You’ve had time.”
“I can get some.”
“You said that Monday.”
“I’m trying.”
“I don’t care.”
His voice became almost friendly.
“That house is worth what? Four hundred?”
I felt ice move through my veins.
Melissa squeezed the phone.
“Don’t.”
“You still got your husband’s signature?”
I looked sharply at her.
Melissa hung up.
The garage became completely silent.
“What signature?”
She shook her head.
“Nothing.”
“What signature?”
“Adam…”
I grabbed the edge of a shelf because suddenly I felt unsteady.
“What did you sign in my name?”
She began sobbing.
“I didn’t finish it.”
“What?”
“A home equity application.”
The room blurred.
“You tried to borrow against our house?”
“I never completed it.”
“Did you forge my signature?”
“I copied it.”
The words barely came out.
I felt physically ill.
Our house.
Sophie’s home.
The place where I had tucked her into bed every night.
The backyard where she learned to ride a bicycle.
The kitchen where we celebrated birthdays.
Melissa had nearly gambled it away.
I pulled out my phone.
“Who are you calling?”
“The bank.”
Panic exploded across her face.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“If you tell them, they could investigate.”
“They should.”
“I could get arrested.”
That stopped me.
Not because I wanted to protect her from consequences.
Because Sophie existed.
Despite everything, Melissa was her mother.
But then I remembered Sophie whispering that she was afraid Mommy would be mad at her.
Consequences were already here.
Ignoring them would not protect our daughter.
It would only teach her that adults could hurt people and lie without accountability.
I called the bank.
I reported the unauthorized application.
Then the credit cards.
The representative transferred me to fraud.
Melissa sat on the garage floor and cried.
I remained on the phone for almost an hour.
When I finished, she looked up.
“You destroyed me.”
I stared at her.
“No.”
My voice was quiet.
“I stopped letting you destroy us.”
My phone rang almost immediately.
An unknown local number.
I answered carefully.
“Adam Carter?”
“Yes.”
“This is Detective Nathan Lewis with the financial crimes unit.”
My body stiffened.
He continued.
“We received a fraud referral connected to an account opened using your identity.”
I looked at Melissa.
Her face collapsed.
Detective Lewis said,
“There are several transactions we need to discuss.”
May you like
Then he added,
“And based on the names involved, your wife may not be the only person using your information.”
