Chapter 6 - THE FIRST TRANSFER
The bank lobby smelled like coffee and carpet cleaner.
I arrived at 7:55 the next morning.
Melissa met me at the door before the branch officially opened.
She was in her forties, with dark hair pulled into a neat bun.
Her smile was polite.
Her eyes were worried.
That scared me.
“Mrs. Bennett, come with me.”
She led me into a glass office.
“Would you like coffee?”
“No.”
“Water?”
“No.”
I sat down.
“Please just tell me what’s happening.”
She folded her hands.
“I want to be careful about how I explain this.”
My stomach turned.
“That sentence never ends well.”
She gave me a small, sympathetic look.
Then turned her monitor.
“I reviewed the account before your appointment because you mentioned concerns about access.”
She clicked.
A list of transactions appeared.
At first, I didn’t understand.
Then I saw the dates.
Five months earlier.
TRANSFER - $4,800.
Four months earlier.
TRANSFER - $7,500.
Three months earlier.
TRANSFER - $12,000.
My heart started pounding.
“What are those?”
“Electronic transfers.”
“To where?”
She clicked again.
“A business checking account.”
“What business?”
She hesitated.
“Bennett Strategic Solutions LLC.”
My mouth went dry.
Harrison.
His imaginary consulting company.
“How much?”
“Excuse me?”
“How much total?”
Melissa looked at the screen.
“From this account alone?”
“From this account alone.”
She inhaled.
“Forty-seven thousand, six hundred dollars.”
I stared at her.
The room seemed to tilt.
“That can’t be right.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No. There has to be a mistake.”
“We’re going to investigate every transaction.”
“My son can’t move that amount of money.”
“He was listed with transfer authority.”
“That was for emergencies.”
“The bank documentation doesn’t show that limitation.”
I felt sick.
Robert and I had built that money slowly.
Years of skipped vacations.
Old cars.
Coupons.
Overtime.
He had worked twenty-seven years at a packaging company.
I had worked in a public elementary school office.
Neither of us came from money.
We had built security one paycheck at a time.
“How did this happen?”
Melissa clicked through more screens.
“It appears online access was changed about nine months ago.”
My breath caught.
Nine months.
Around the time Harrison helped me “simplify” my banking.
“What changed?”
“Recovery phone number. Email notifications. Some paperless settings.”
“To his information?”
“Yes.”
A sharp pain moved through my chest.
I pressed a hand against it.
Melissa immediately leaned forward.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
I wasn’t.
I stared at the monitor.
Then something caught my eye.
A debit purchase.
$2,487.16.
Luxury retail store.
Three days before my birthday.
The Gucci handbag.
I knew it.
I didn’t even need to ask.
Melissa followed my eyes.
“Do you recognize that transaction?”
“Yes.”
My voice sounded far away.
“He bought his wife a handbag.”
“With this account?”
“Yes.”
I laughed.
One dry, ugly sound.
“He used my emergency savings to buy the handbag I burned.”
Melissa said nothing.
There are moments when humiliation burns hotter than anger.
That was one of them.
I had spent days questioning whether burning Sloan’s bag had been too extreme.
Now I knew I had paid for the damn thing.
But Melissa wasn’t finished.
She clicked another tab.
“There’s something else.”
I looked at her.
She turned the monitor toward me.
A second account appeared.
Not savings.
A home equity line of credit.
Balance:
$92,400.
My hands went numb.
“I don’t have a home equity line.”
Melissa’s face became very still.
“Yes, Mrs. Bennett.”
May you like
She pointed at the screen.
“You do.”
