Chapter 4: The Name on the Missing Money
“The funds were redirected to an account held by an individual named Marcus Reed.””
For a moment, I thought I had misheard her.
Marcus Reed.
Ethan's accountant.
The man whose name had appeared on Ethan's phone minutes earlier.
I tightened my grip on the receiver.
“You're telling me the money was transferred to my husband's accountant?””
“I'm telling you that the beneficiary account is registered to an individual with that name, Mrs. Hayes. I cannot disclose additional private banking information without completing our verification process.””
“Then complete it. I didn't authorize the transfer.””
“I understand. I'm placing a fraud restriction on the remaining linked accounts while we investigate. I also need to advise you not to approve any further transactions related to this loan.””
“How much money is left?””
There was a brief silence.
“Nothing remains in the escrow account.””
I closed my eyes.
Three hundred and eighty thousand dollars.
Years of savings. Money we had set aside for retirement, for medical emergencies, for the day Ethan and I would finally stop working long enough to enjoy the life we had built.
Gone.
“Mrs. Hayes?”” the banker asked.
“Are you still there?””
“Yes.””
“I'm going to email you a secure verification form. Please do not sign any documents sent to you by other parties until our fraud team contacts you directly.””
I swallowed hard.
“Thank you.””
The call ended.
Behind me, Ethan said, “Who was that?””
I placed the receiver in its cradle.
He was standing in the doorway, wearing his damp shirt and the expression of a man who had already prepared three different explanations.
“The bank.””
His face tightened.
“What did they want?””
“To ask why my money was transferred into an account belonging to Marcus Reed.””
For the first time that afternoon, Ethan didn't even attempt to pretend he was confused.
He looked toward the windows.
“Lauren, you need to calm down.””
I stared at him.
“Three hundred and eighty thousand dollars is missing, Ethan.””
“It's not missing.””
“Then where is it?””
“It was a temporary transfer.””
“To your accountant?””
“He's handling a transaction.””
“You told me Marcus was your accountant. You didn't tell me he was holding our retirement savings.””
“He isn't holding anything. It's part of the property deal.””
“What property deal?””
Ethan exhaled sharply, as though I were exhausting him.
“The Sacramento property. We discussed this.””
“No, we didn't.””
“I mentioned the investment.””
“You mentioned buying a second home someday. You never mentioned borrowing against our house, transferring our savings, or putting my name on documents I never signed.””
He rubbed his jaw.
“Everything was moving quickly. I was trying to protect us from a tax liability.””
I almost admired the speed with which he invented reasons to excuse himself.
First, the affair had been a mistake.
Then the secret company had been a routine subsidiary.
Now our missing money was a tax strategy.
“Tell me exactly what Marcus is doing with that money.””
Ethan shook his head.
“I can't explain the entire transaction in the middle of a crisis.””
“Then give me the paperwork.””
“It's at the office.””
“Call him.””
“He's busy.””
“Call him, Ethan.””
He stared at me, then pulled his phone from his pocket.
I watched his thumb move across the screen.
He didn't call Marcus.
He typed a message.
When I stepped closer, he angled the screen away.
“Who are you messaging?””
“My lawyer.””
“You have a lawyer?””
“Of course I have a lawyer.””
“Then why did you tell me Marcus was handling everything?””
“Because he handles the financial side!””
I took a step back.
The raised voice. The irritated expression. The sudden insistence that I was unreasonable for asking basic questions.
It was the same performance he had used whenever I questioned an expense or asked why a business dinner had lasted until two in the morning.
But this time, I wasn't going to apologize for making him uncomfortable.
“I'm getting my own attorney,” I said.
His expression changed.
“Don't be ridiculous.””
“I am serious.””
“You don't even understand the structure of the deal.””
“Then I'll hire someone who does.””
He moved closer, lowering his voice.
“Lauren, if you bring outsiders into this before I can straighten it out, you could damage the company. Hundreds of employees depend on me.””
I looked at him.
“And what do I depend on you for?””
He opened his mouth.
I waited.
He said nothing.
That silence hurt, but it also settled something inside me.
I walked into the study and opened the bottom drawer of Ethan's desk. Our original property deeds were kept in a locked cabinet beside his financial files.
The cabinet was open.
The folders were gone.
I stared at the empty shelves.
“Where are the property documents?””
Ethan appeared behind me.
“Which ones?””
“The deeds. The mortgage statements. Our investment records.””
“I reorganized the files.””
“Where?””
“At the office.””
“Why?””
“Because I needed them for the loan.””
I turned slowly.
“You took the original deeds out of our house to secure a loan I didn't know about?””
“They were copies.””
I pulled open the next drawer.
It contained old receipts, business cards, and a box of pens.
I checked the cabinet again, hoping I had missed something.
Nothing.
“Ethan, where are the originals?””
His jaw flexed.
“Stop interrogating me.””
“No.””
He stared at me as if he couldn't believe the word had come from my mouth.
Then he reached for my arm.
I stepped away before he could touch me.
“Don't.””
His hand remained suspended between us for a second before he lowered it.
“Lauren, I'm your husband.””
“Then you should have treated me like your wife.””
He looked toward the hallway.
I followed his gaze.
Daniel stood near the entrance to the study, his phone in hand. He had come inside quietly, and I hadn't heard him approach.
“I called my attorney,” Daniel said.
“He's sending someone to review the property records.””
Ethan's face darkened.
“You had no right to involve your attorney in my affairs.””
Daniel slipped his phone into his pocket.
“Your affairs have apparently become my affairs. My accountant found my company's name in your loan documents.””
“That doesn't mean you're entitled to interfere.””
“It means I have every reason to find out whether my assets were used without my authorization.””
Ethan turned to me.
“Are you really going to let him do this?””
I looked at Daniel, then back at my husband.
“I'm not letting anyone do anything. I'm finding out what you did.””
Ethan shook his head.
“You're making a terrible mistake.””
“No,” I said quietly.
“The mistake was believing you would tell me the truth simply because I deserved it.””
He stared at me.
For a second, I thought he might finally confess.
Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his truck keys.
The spare set.
He held them up with a bitter smile.
“You threw my keys into the pool. Do you have any idea how childish that was?””
I glanced toward the garden.
“The security team can retrieve them.””
“That's not the point.””
“You're right. The point is that your biggest concern is still your truck.””
His smile disappeared.
Daniel looked away, apparently trying to suppress a reaction.
Ethan noticed.
“Get out of my house, Daniel.””
Daniel didn't move.
“Lauren invited me to stay while we sort this out.””
“I don't remember inviting you.””
I looked at Ethan.
“Neither do I remember inviting you to steal from me, but here we are.””
The words hung in the room.
Ethan's face hardened into something unfamiliar.
Not anger alone.
Contempt.
“You think you can humiliate me in front of everyone and walk away with everything I built?””
I felt my heartbeat in my throat.
“I built a great deal of it with you.””
“You sold your condo before we married. That was your decision.””
“To fund your business.””
“And I paid you back.””
“With what money?””
He stopped.
I saw it happen.
A tiny fracture in his confidence.
Then he turned toward the hall.
“I'm going to the office. When I come back, I expect you to have calmed down.””
He walked out before I could answer.
A few seconds later, the front door slammed.
Daniel waited until the sound of Ethan's car faded before speaking.
“Lauren, I don't want to frighten you, but I think you need to assume the financial situation is worse than we know.””
I sat in Ethan's desk chair.
“Why would he do this?””
Daniel pulled out the chair opposite me.
“I don't know.””
“He has a successful company. We have a beautiful house. We have investments. Why would he risk everything?””
Daniel looked at the empty cabinet.
“Sometimes people don't commit fraud because they have nothing. Sometimes they do it because they're desperate to keep everyone believing they have everything.””
I thought of Ethan's expensive watches, his country club membership, the dinners he insisted we host for clients.
The way he always made sure the neighbors saw the new car before he drove it into the garage.
I had thought he was proud of our success.
Now I wondered whether he had been terrified of losing the appearance of it.
Daniel's phone rang.
He answered, listened, and then stood abruptly.
“What?”” he asked.
I watched his expression change.
“Are you certain?””
Another pause.
“Send me the document. Now.””
He ended the call.
“What happened?”” I asked.
“My attorney checked the property registry.””
He turned the phone toward me.
A scanned deed appeared on the screen.
The Sacramento estate had been transferred into Westbridge Property Holdings two months earlier.
But it wasn't the property description that made me gasp.
It was the ownership section.
Westbridge was listed as a company jointly controlled by Ethan Hayes and Brooke Mitchell.
Daniel lowered the phone.
“My wife wasn't just having an affair with your husband.””
He looked at me grimly.
“She may have been helping him move assets.””
I stared at the screen.
Then another notification appeared on Daniel's phone.
An email from his attorney.
*Subject: Additional document located — urgent review required.*
Daniel opened it.
His eyes widened.
“What is it?”” I asked.
He looked up at me.
“Lauren, there's a second deed.””
He turned the screen so I could see it.
The document listed our family home.
The mansion where I had lived for seven years.
The place my mother had visited before she died.
The place I believed was mine.
Under the section marked Proposed Transfer of Ownership, I saw my name beside a signature I had never made.
May you like
And beneath it was a date.
Tomorrow.
