Chapter 3
I had never given Denise permission to touch Alicia's money.
That was the first thing I told her.
The second was that I wanted every account record.
She stared at me as though I had betrayed her.
"You're going to audit your own wife?"
I looked at Jordan.
Then I looked back at her.
"I'm going to find out what happened to my son's inheritance."
She let out a bitter laugh.
"You're making me sound like some kind of thief."
"Then explain the withdrawals."
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
I turned toward Jordan.
"How did she get access?"
He wiped his face.
"I don't know everything."
"Tell me what you know."
He nodded.
"After I turned eighteen, Denise said the bank needed updated paperwork."
I frowned.
"What paperwork?"
"She said she was helping you move the education fund to a better account."
I remembered a conversation from the previous year.
Denise had mentioned that Jordan's savings could earn more interest elsewhere.
I told her I would review the options later.
Then work became overwhelming.
A major construction project was behind schedule.
I spent weeks traveling between job sites.
I never approved any change.
"What did she ask you to sign?" I asked.
Jordan looked embarrassed.
"Some forms."
"Did you read them?"
He lowered his head.
"Not all of them."
I swallowed my anger.
Not at him.
At the situation.
"Did she explain them?"
"She said they were routine."
Denise suddenly stepped forward.
"They were."
I looked at her.
"Then you won't mind showing them to me."
She folded her arms.
"I need to find the copies."
"Where?"
"At work."
I nodded slowly.
"Fine. We'll request the originals from the bank."
Her expression tightened.
Jordan continued.
"She also helped me set up online access."
I stared at him.
"Did she know your password?"
He hesitated.
"Yes."
I closed my eyes.
Denise knew how to navigate financial systems.
Jordan was eighteen, grieving his mother in quiet ways he rarely discussed.
He trusted the woman who had married his father.
That trust had made him vulnerable.
I called my attorney, Raymond Ellis.
Raymond had handled my business contracts for nearly a decade.
He answered immediately.
"Marcus, what's going on?"
"I need help reviewing some financial transactions involving my son."
"How urgent?"
"Very."
I briefly explained what we had found.
His tone changed.
"Do not delete anything. Preserve the statements and messages."
"I understand."
"Your son should contact the bank's fraud department and secure his accounts."
I looked at Jordan.
He nodded.
"Can you meet us tomorrow?" I asked.
"First thing."
After the call, I turned to Denise.
"I'm asking you to stay somewhere else while we investigate."
She stared at me.
"You can't be serious."
"I am."
"This is my home."
"It's your residence too, and we'll handle any legal arrangements properly. But I need space tonight."
She looked at Jordan.
"This is what you wanted?"
I stepped between them.
"Don't put this on him."
Her eyes filled with angry tears.
"I gave four years of my life to this family."
"And I gave you my trust."
She looked away.
I lowered my voice.
"Denise, if there's an innocent explanation, bring me the evidence."
She stared at me for several seconds.
Then she grabbed her purse.
"I'll stay with my sister."
I nodded.
She walked toward the door.
Before leaving, she turned.
"You're going to regret treating me like this."
I held her gaze.
"I already regret not noticing what was happening to Jordan."
The front door slammed.
My son flinched.
I stood in the hallway for a long moment.
Then I walked back to the kitchen.
Jordan was staring at his mother's envelope.
I sat beside him.
"How are you feeling?"
He shrugged.
"I don't know."
"Angry?"
"A little."
"Scared?"
He nodded.
I waited.
Then he whispered, "Mostly stupid."
My heart broke.
"Don't say that."
"But I should have known."
"Jordan, you trusted someone who was supposed to care about you."
He looked at me.
"She said I was childish whenever I asked questions."
I felt my jaw tighten.
"That was wrong."
He wiped his eyes.
"Sometimes she was nice. She'd buy my favorite food or ask about school. Then she'd tell me I owed her because she did so much."
I listened.
"She made me feel guilty for everything."
I reached for his hand.
"I'm sorry."
He looked surprised.
"Why are you apologizing?"
"Because I should have noticed."
He shook his head.
"Dad, you were working."
"I was still your father."
"You were always there when I needed you."
I looked down.
"Except when you needed help with this."
He squeezed my hand.
"I didn't tell you."
I took a breath.
"Then we both know what needs to change. You can tell me anything, even if you think I'll be disappointed."
He nodded.
That night, we ate dinner together.
I made grilled chicken and rice because it was one of the few meals I could prepare without following instructions.
Jordan barely ate.
Afterward, he brought his laptop downstairs.
"I found some emails."
I sat beside him.
He opened a folder.
The messages came from an address resembling Denise's work account.
Several contained attachments labeled EDUCATION ACCOUNT UPDATE.
I opened the first PDF.
It described a transfer authorization.
The destination account belonged to a company called D&S Residential Services.
I frowned.
"What's that?"
Jordan shook his head.
"I thought it was a bank."
I searched the company name.
A business registration appeared.
The listed manager was Denise Williams.
My stomach tightened.
She had directed money into a company she controlled.
I opened another email.
This one included a payment schedule.
Monthly housing contribution.
Administrative fees.
Education planning fees.
Emergency support adjustment.
The labels sounded official.
But none explained why a stepmother should receive thousands of dollars from her stepson's inheritance.
Then I found an attachment titled FAMILY FINANCIAL AGREEMENT.
At the bottom was a signature.
Mine.
MARCUS WILLIAMS.
I stared at it.
The handwriting looked similar to mine.
But the date made no sense.
It showed I had signed the agreement on March 14.
I knew exactly where I had been that day.
I was in Jacksonville, supervising a bridge project.
I had receipts, work reports, and photographs proving it.
I looked at Jordan.
"Son, I never signed this."
His eyes widened.
"What?"
I turned the laptop toward him.
"This is not my signature."
He stared at the screen.
Then his face crumpled.
"Dad, she told me you approved everything."
I placed a hand on his shoulder.
"I didn't."
He began crying.
I pulled him close.
Then another thought struck me.
If Denise had forged my signature on one document, what else had she signed?
I searched through the remaining attachments.
Near the bottom of the folder was an email with no subject.
It contained a scanned letter addressed to Jordan.
The sender's name was Denise.
The message was short.
"Your father cannot know about the second account. If he finds out, both of us will lose everything."
I felt my pulse quicken.
Second account?
I looked at Jordan.
"What second account?"
He stared at the message.
His face drained of color.
May you like
Then he whispered, "Dad, I think I know."
And the fear in his voice told me the missing thirty thousand dollars might be the smallest part of our problem.
