Chapter 3: The Man Behind the Transfers
I didn't answer the bank representative immediately.
Daniel Reeves.
For eight years, I had believed that name belonged to a chapter of my life I had finally closed.
Daniel had been my closest friend since college. We had shared an apartment, worked our first jobs together, and helped each other through the deaths of our fathers.
When I met Yolanda, Daniel had been the first person I introduced her to.
He had stood beside me at our wedding, straightening my tie before I walked down the aisle.
Then, six months later, everything changed.
Daniel stopped returning my calls.
He missed my birthday.
When I finally confronted him, he told me he needed space and didn't want to discuss it.
A few weeks afterward, I heard he had moved out of state.
I assumed life had pulled us in different directions.
Now his name was connected to an account holding my son's money.
“Mr. Carter?”” the bank representative asked.
“Are you still there?””
“Yes.””
“Do you recognize the name?””
I looked at Malik.
He was watching me with wide eyes.
“I recognize it,” I said.
“I don't understand why it's attached to my son's account.””
“I recommend that you visit a branch and request a complete review of the account history. We can also place a temporary restriction on certain transactions while the matter is investigated.””
“Do that.””
“Certainly. Before I proceed, I need to confirm—”
A sudden crash came from upstairs.
Nia jumped.
Malik grabbed my arm.
Then we heard Yolanda's voice.
“Where is it? I know you took it!””
I ended the call after confirming the temporary restriction and hurried toward the staircase.
Nia followed close behind.
At the top, Yolanda was standing beside the open bedroom closet. Drawers had been pulled out, clothes lay scattered across the floor, and a small wooden box sat overturned near the dresser.
She was searching through a stack of papers.
“What are you looking for?”” I demanded.
She spun around.
“Nothing that concerns you.””
“You're tearing apart the bedroom.””
“Because somebody has been going through my things!””
Her gaze landed on Nia.
“You little liar. You had no right to take those documents.””
Nia backed away.
“I didn't take them from your closet. They were in the printer.””
“You went looking for them!””
“I was looking for my birth certificate!””
Yolanda swept a stack of envelopes off the dresser.
They scattered across the carpet.
“Get out of my room!””
I stepped between her and Nia.
“This is enough.””
Yolanda's chest rose and fell rapidly.
“You've been listening to her lies for the last hour, and now you're treating me like a criminal.””
“Then stop acting like you're hiding something.””
Her face twisted.
“After everything I've done for you, that's what you think of me?””
I looked at the scattered documents.
“Did you transfer money from the children's accounts to Daniel Reeves?””
For a fraction of a second, she looked genuinely confused.
Then she laughed.
It was a sharp, brittle sound.
“Daniel? What does he have to do with any of this?””
“The bank found an external account connected to his name.””
She stopped laughing.
I watched the realization move across her face.
First surprise.
Then calculation.
Then something that looked very much like panic.
“That's impossible,” she whispered.
“Why?””
She shook her head.
“Daniel doesn't have anything to do with our finances.””
“Then you won't mind explaining why his name appears on the transfer request.””
She looked away.
“People can have the same name.””
“Not with the same account details.””
Her eyes snapped back to mine.
“What exactly did the bank tell you?””
I didn't answer.
Instead, I took out my phone and opened the photograph of the document Nia had found.
I enlarged the bottom section.
There it was again: the transfer authorization, the external account reference, and the signature.
Yolanda's signature.
I held the screen toward her.
“Is this your signature?””
She stared at it.
“I don't remember signing that.””
“You don't remember?””
“I sign dozens of documents.””
“This one concerns our son.””
She pressed her fingertips against her temples.
“Marcus, please. You're making assumptions. Let me speak to the bank myself.””
“No.””
Her head jerked up.
“What?””
“You won't be contacting the bank about Malik's account. I've already asked them to restrict transactions until they investigate.””
She stared at me as though I had struck her.
“You had no right to do that!””
“It's my son's money.””
“And I'm his stepmother!””
“Then why are you afraid of an investigation?””
She opened her mouth, but the answer never came.
Instead, she turned toward the dresser and began shoving papers into a drawer.
I caught sight of a small envelope beneath a pile of receipts.
It was white, sealed, and addressed in handwriting I recognized immediately.
Daniel's.
I reached for it.
Yolanda grabbed my wrist.
“Don't touch that!””
Her nails dug into my skin.
I looked down at her hand.
“Let go.””
She released me.
For several seconds, neither of us moved.
Then I picked up the envelope.
There was no stamp. No return address. Just my wife's name written across the front.
Yolanda.
I opened it.
Inside was a single sheet of paper.
The message was short.
The arrangement ends this month. I need the final transfer before I come back. Don't tell Marcus. You know what happens if he finds out.
There was no signature, but I knew the handwriting.
Daniel had written hundreds of birthday cards, notes, and letters over the years. I could have recognized his handwriting from across a crowded room.
I read the message twice.
Then I looked at Yolanda.
“What arrangement?””
She stared at the paper.
Her lips trembled.
“Marcus, I can explain.””
“Then explain.””
She sat on the edge of the bed, suddenly looking smaller than I had ever seen her.
“It wasn't supposed to happen like this.””
“What wasn't?””
She covered her face.
“I never wanted the children to get involved.””
I felt something cold settle in my chest.
“They're already involved. Their money is missing.””
She shook her head.
“I was going to put it back.””
“With what?””
She didn't answer.
“With what, Yolanda?””
She looked up, tears gathering in her eyes.
“Daniel said he had an investment opportunity. He told me the money would grow, and I thought I could return everything before anyone noticed.””
I stared at her.
“You gave my children's savings to Daniel?””
“It was temporary!””
“How much?””
She looked down.
“I don't know exactly.””
I took a step toward her.
“You don't know?””
“I kept records at first, but then the transfers became complicated.””
“Complicated how?””
She pressed her palms together.
“Daniel kept saying the next payment would fix everything. He promised he was close to a breakthrough. He said if I could send just a little more, I would get everything back.””
I felt sick.
“How long has this been happening?””
She began crying.
“Almost a year.””
A year.
For twelve months, I had worked overtime, postponed buying a new car, and cut back on expenses because I believed we were building a secure future for our children.
Meanwhile, my wife had been quietly transferring their savings to my former best friend.
I thought about the family vacations we had canceled.
The college fund I had promised Nia.
The small savings Malik had accumulated from birthdays and holidays.
Every time I had told the children we needed to be careful with money, Yolanda had nodded solemnly beside me.
I had never questioned her.
I had trusted her.
“Did Daniel contact you first?”” I asked.
She shook her head.
“No.””
“Did you contact him?””
Her silence answered me.
“Why?””
She wiped her face.
“Because he told me something about you.””
I frowned.
“What did he tell you?””
She looked at the bedroom door, as if making sure the children weren't listening.
“He said you had been hiding money from me. He said you were planning to leave and take the children.””
I stared at her.
“What?””
“He showed me documents. Bank statements. Messages. He said you were preparing to divorce me.””
“That is a lie.””
“I know that now.””
“You believed him over me?””
“He said he had proof!””
“And the solution was to steal from our children?””
She flinched at the word steal.
“I didn't steal anything. I borrowed it.””
“Without telling them. Without telling me. And you hit Malik when he asked for his own paycheck.””
She began sobbing harder.
“I panicked. I thought if I could get the money back, none of this would matter.””
I looked at the letter again.
The arrangement ends this month.
Daniel wasn't simply an investment partner.
He had been controlling the situation.
Possibly for months.
Possibly for much longer than Yolanda was willing to admit.
I took a photograph of the letter and placed it back in the envelope.
“I'm going downstairs.””
She caught my hand.
“Marcus, please. Don't tell the children about Daniel. They don't need to know.””
I pulled my hand away.
“They already know something is wrong. And I'm done asking them to live with secrets because the adults in their lives are too afraid to tell the truth.””
I walked out.
Nia and Malik were waiting at the bottom of the stairs.
My daughter searched my face.
“Dad, what happened?””
I knelt in front of them.
“There's a man named Daniel who may have taken money from your accounts. The bank is investigating, and I'm going to make sure no one can take anything else.””
Malik looked down at his check.
“Is he the reason she took my money?””
“I don't know everything yet.””
“Did he tell her to hit me?””
The question pierced me.
“No, son. Nothing gives her the right to hit you. That was her choice, and it was wrong.””
Malik nodded, but he didn't look convinced that the world made sense anymore.
Nia sat beside him and put an arm around his shoulders.
I called my attorney and explained what I had found. He told me to preserve every document, avoid confronting Daniel directly, and let the bank investigate the transfers.
Then he asked me one question.
“Marcus, are you absolutely certain your wife opened these accounts without your knowledge?””
I looked toward the staircase.
“I'm certain I didn't authorize the transfers.””
“That isn't quite what I asked.””
I frowned.
“What do you mean?””
He paused.
“Some of these documents may involve a joint authorization. Before you make any accusations, I want to see the original records.””
I promised to send him copies.
Then I hung up and looked at Nia's folder again.
One statement had slipped beneath the others.
It was folded in half, as though someone had deliberately hidden it.
I opened it.
At the top was a date from eight years earlier.
The month Daniel had disappeared from my life.
Below it was a deposit that dwarfed every other transaction on the page.
Twenty-five thousand dollars.
The account was not in Malik's name.
It was not in Nia's name.
It was an account registered to Yolanda.
And beside the deposit was a description that made my fingers go numb.
*TRANSFER FROM MARCUS CARTER — PERSONAL RESERVE.*
I had never transferred twenty-five thousand dollars to my wife.
I had never even possessed that much money in a personal reserve account.
Yet the transaction carried my name.
I turned the page over.
On the back, someone had written a short note in blue ink.
Once Marcus signs the final papers, everything belongs to us.
I read it again.
Then I noticed the signature beneath the sentence.
Daniel Reeves.
My phone vibrated.
An unknown number had sent me a message.
*Stop looking into the children's accounts. You have no idea what your wife and I agreed to eight years ago.*
May you like
A second message arrived before I could respond.
*Ask Yolanda what happened the night before your wedding.*
