Chapter 2 - The Money Was Never MissingClaire spent the next three hours going through every transaction.
She didn't accuse Brandon.
She didn't speculate.
She simply followed the money.
That was somehow worse.
Because numbers didn't care about feelings.
They didn't care about seven years of marriage.
They didn't care about promises made under wedding lights.
Numbers simply told the truth.
At 9:42 a.m., Claire found the first transfer.
A payment of $27,500 had gone to a company called Northstar Property Holdings.
I didn't recognize the name.
“Do you?”
“No.”
Claire searched the company registry.
Her expression became serious.
“It's an LLC.”
“Owned by whom?”
She turned the laptop toward me.
The registered manager was Brandon Miller.
My stomach dropped.
“That's his company.”
“Did you know about it?”
“No.”
Claire kept scrolling.
There were four properties associated with the company.
Two small rental houses.
A storage facility.
And an apartment building.
I stared at the screen.
“He bought property?”
“Apparently.”
“With our money?”
“That's what we're going to prove.”
Then Claire found something else.
A transfer for $10,500.
The exact amount Brandon claimed had been stolen from his desk.
It hadn't disappeared.
It had been transferred.
Three days earlier.
To Northstar Property Holdings.
I looked at my mother.
She looked stunned.
“He accused you of stealing money that he had already moved.”
My mother covered her mouth.
“Why?”
Claire answered.
“To create a story.”
“A story?”
“A story where you're the thief and he's the victim.”
My blood ran cold.
Brandon hadn't lost control.
He had created a reason to get rid of my mother.
And he had used that accusation to give himself an excuse to demand that I leave with her—or lose my marriage.
But why?
Claire continued searching.
Then she found another account.
A personal checking account at a different bank.
Brandon's name.
I stared at the balance.
$83,412.09.
I laughed once.
It wasn't funny.
Our joint savings had $1,347.
His secret account had more than $83,000.
“That's not everything,” Claire said.
“What?”
She opened another document.
A credit card statement.
Luxury hotel charges.
Restaurant bills.
Jewelry.
A payment to a moving company.
My heart stopped.
“When?”
“Six weeks ago.”
The moving company had been paid $4,800.
The destination address was in a suburb twenty miles away.
Claire searched the address.
A house.
Recently purchased.
Not under Brandon's name.
Under Northstar Property Holdings.
I stared at it.
“There's someone else.”
Claire didn't respond.
She didn't need to.
The evidence was already speaking.
Then my phone rang.
Brandon.
I answered.
“What do you want?”
His voice was strangely calm.
“Are you coming home?”
“No.”
“Elena, you're overreacting.”
“My mother has bruises on her face.”
“I apologized.”
“You accused her of stealing money you transferred yourself.”
Silence.
A long silence.
Then he said:
“You've been talking to Claire.”
“Yes.”
His voice changed.
“You need to be careful about listening to people who want to destroy your marriage.”
“Who destroyed it, Brandon?”
“You did.”
I almost laughed.
“You slapped my mother.”
“She was stealing.”
“She wasn't.”
“She admitted she opened my desk.”
“To clean it.”
“She had access.”
“Because she lived there.”
He became angry.
“You've always protected her.”
“And you've always expected me to protect you.”
Another silence.
Then he said something that made my stomach turn.
“If you want this to get ugly, it can get very ugly.”
I looked at Claire.
She was already recording the call.
“What are you threatening?”
“I'm telling you to think carefully.”
“About what?”
“You may not like what happens when people start looking into your finances.”
I frowned.
“My finances?”
“Yes.”
Then he hung up.
Claire stopped the recording.
“Interesting.”
“What?”
“He just admitted he knows there are financial issues.”
I stared at her.
“What do we do?”
“We don't contact him again.”
“Why?”
“Because now we're going to find out exactly what he's been doing.”
That afternoon, Claire filed the first legal notices.
Then she asked me a question.
“Did Brandon ever have access to your mother's estate?”
I shook my head.
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Then there's something else.”
“What?”
She turned the laptop toward me.
“Your mother's money.”
I felt my chest tighten.
My mother looked at us.
“What money?”
Claire opened a document.
“Your father left you an inheritance before he died.”
My mother stared at me.
“I thought that account was separate.”
“It is.”
Claire smiled grimly.
“And according to these records, someone tried to access it six weeks ago.”
My blood turned cold.
Someone hadn't just been stealing our savings.
Someone had been testing how much they could take from me.
And suddenly I understood.
May you like
The $170,000 wasn't the real target.
It was only the beginning.
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