Chapter 4
Jordan opened a bank folder I had never seen before.
He clicked through several documents.
Then he turned the laptop toward me.
At the top of the screen was the name of a financial institution in Georgia.
Beneath it was an account summary.
The original deposit was $85,000.
I stared at the number.
"Where did this come from?"
Jordan looked terrified.
"Mom's life insurance."
I shook my head.
"No. Your mother's life insurance was already used to establish your education fund."
He swallowed.
"Denise said there was another policy."
My heart pounded.
"What policy?"
"She told me Mom had left a separate account that became mine when I turned eighteen."
I sat back.
Alicia had been meticulous about financial planning.
Before she died, we discussed her insurance policies, savings, and the arrangements for Jordan.
I believed I knew about every account.
But Alicia had once worked for a hospital that offered supplemental insurance through its employee benefits program.
Could there have been another policy?
It was possible.
What frightened me was that Denise appeared to know about it before I did.
"How did she find out?" I asked.
Jordan shook his head.
"She said she handled some old mail."
I remembered boxes of paperwork stored in our garage.
After moving into the house, I had left several boxes unopened.
Denise offered to organize them.
I had thanked her.
Now that memory felt different.
Jordan opened another statement.
The balance was nearly zero.
I stared at the screen.
"Where did the money go?"
He scrolled.
Transfers appeared across several months.
Ten thousand dollars.
Eight thousand.
Twelve thousand.
Fifteen thousand.
Most went to D&S Residential Services.
Others went to an account with a name I didn't recognize.
HOLLOWAY PROPERTY GROUP.
I grabbed a notepad.
"Write down every destination."
Jordan obeyed.
His hands were shaking.
I leaned closer.
"Look at me."
He stopped.
"None of this changes how I feel about you."
Tears filled his eyes.
"But I signed some papers."
"We'll find out what those papers were."
"What if it's my fault?"
"It's our job to establish the facts. Not to blame you for trusting someone."
He nodded slowly.
I called Raymond again.
This time, he didn't bother hiding his concern.
"Marcus, that's serious."
"I know."
"Have Jordan secure every account and request the underlying bank records. We also need to verify the insurance policy."
"Can you help?"
"Yes. And I want you to speak with a forensic accountant."
I looked toward the laptop.
"How quickly?"
"I can arrange a meeting tomorrow."
I thanked him.
Then I asked a question that had been building in my mind.
"Raymond, could Denise have accessed this money without Jordan's permission?"
"It depends on the account structure, the forms, and what authority she had. We can't assume anything until we review the originals."
I nodded.
That answer was fair.
But it didn't make me feel better.
The next morning, Jordan and I went to the bank.
A manager named Camille Price met us in a private office.
She was calm and professional.
I appreciated that.
Jordan looked like he expected someone to yell at him.
Camille listened carefully.
Then she requested identification and verified Jordan's account ownership.
After reviewing the available records, she explained that the account had been opened from an insurance payment transferred into Jordan's name after he became eligible to receive it.
I leaned forward.
"Who submitted the paperwork?"
She reviewed the file.
"An authorized representative assisted with the application."
"Who?"
She turned the screen.
Denise Williams.
My stomach dropped.
"How did she become an authorized representative?"
Camille studied the documents.
"There is an authorization form signed by Jordan."
I looked at my son.
He stared at the desk.
"She told me it was for financial planning."
Camille nodded sympathetically.
"We can provide copies and begin reviewing any transactions Jordan disputes."
"Can we freeze further transfers?" I asked.
Jordan confirmed that he wanted the account secured.
Camille began the process.
Then she looked at the transaction history.
"I see several large payments to business accounts."
"Can they be reversed?"
"That depends on the circumstances and investigation. We'll open a fraud claim and review the details."
Jordan looked devastated.
"So the money might be gone?"
Camille spoke gently.
"I can't promise an outcome today. But we will document the dispute and investigate."
I placed a hand on his shoulder.
"We're going to work through it."
After leaving the bank, we met Raymond.
He had already arranged for a forensic accountant named Patricia Lewis to review the records.
Patricia spread the statements across a conference table.
She studied the transfers for nearly an hour.
Then she looked up.
"Marcus, I need to ask you something."
"Go ahead."
"Did you ever authorize Denise to form a company using your home address?"
I frowned.
"No."
She showed me a registration document.
D&S Residential Services.
Principal office: our home.
Registered manager: Denise Williams.
Then she pointed to another page.
"Your name appears as a business guarantor."
I stared at it.
"That's impossible."
She nodded.
"There's a signature attached."
I knew what was coming.
When she turned the page, I saw my name again.
Another signature I had never written.
My chest tightened.
"What was the company doing?"
Patricia folded her hands.
"It appears to have received money from Jordan's accounts and then transferred funds elsewhere."
"Where?"
She opened a chart.
Several payments went to Holloway Property Group.
Others went to a luxury car dealership.
A furniture company.
A travel agency.
I stared at the list.
"Denise told me her company gave her bonuses."
Patricia looked at me.
"These payments suggest some personal expenses may have been funded through the business."
I thought about Denise's new car.
The expensive handbags.
The weekend trips she said were work-related.
I had never questioned them because she earned her own salary.
Now I wondered whether Jordan had unknowingly paid for them.
Patricia pointed to one transaction.
"This is especially important."
I leaned closer.
The amount was $42,000.
The recipient was Holloway Property Group.
"What is it?"
"We need more documentation, but it appears connected to a real estate deposit."
My stomach twisted.
"Denise bought property?"
"Possibly. We need to verify ownership."
I looked at Raymond.
"Can we find out?"
He nodded.
"Public records may help. We'll investigate through lawful channels."
That afternoon, Patricia called.
She had located a recorded property transaction.
Holloway Property Group had acquired a townhouse in a gated community outside Atlanta.
The purchase involved financing and a substantial down payment.
The managing member listed on a related business filing was Denise.
I stared at the address.
My wife had been collecting money from my son while secretly investing in property.
I felt sick.
"Is that where the money went?"
"Some of it may have," Patricia said. "We're still tracing the complete path."
After the call, I showed Jordan the address.
His expression changed.
"Dad."
"What?"
"I've been there."
I stared at him.
"When?"
"Three months ago."
"Why?"
He swallowed.
"Denise made me drive her there."
"What did she tell you?"
"That she was checking on a friend's house."
I felt my stomach tighten.
"Was anyone there?"
Jordan nodded.
"A man."
I looked at him.
"What man?"
"I don't know his name."
He hesitated.
"But Denise introduced him as her business partner."
I leaned forward.
"What did he look like?"
Jordan swallowed.
"Older. Tall. He had a gray beard."
Then he said something that made my entire body go cold.
"Dad, he called Denise his wife."
May you like
I stared at my son.
And suddenly, I realized the money might not be the only thing my wife had been hiding.
