Chapter 5 - The Money Was Gone
Laura met me at her office that afternoon.
I brought Mia.
Rachel came too.
Nobody was taking my daughter anywhere without me.
Laura spread Evan’s custody filing across the conference table.
The lies filled seventeen pages.
According to my husband, I was emotionally unstable.
Controlling.
Violent.
Financially irresponsible.
Obsessed with keeping Mia away from his family.
He claimed he had spent months protecting our daughter from my “unpredictable temperament.”
Then Laura slid one page toward me.
“This is what concerns me most.”
It was a statement supposedly written by Evan two weeks earlier.
He claimed I had threatened to empty our accounts if he ever tried to leave me.
“I never said this.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“Because you told me a month ago that you were moving only your paycheck deposits.”
I nodded.
I had opened a separate account after discovering Evan had withdrawn $4,800 from our savings without telling me.
He said it had been for “family expenses.”
I never found out which family.
Laura tapped the affidavit.
“This statement is laying groundwork for whatever happened financially.”
My stomach tightened.
I opened my banking app.
Our joint savings balance had been $62,418 three days earlier.
Now it was $814.
I stared at the screen.
“No.”
Rachel leaned over.
“What?”
I refreshed.
Same balance.
Laura’s face changed.
“When was the withdrawal?”
I opened the transaction history.
Yesterday.
10:14 a.m.
Hours before the banquet.
$61,604 transferred to an account ending in 9227.
I recognized the destination immediately.
Diane Bennett.
My mother-in-law.
“They took it before dinner.”
Laura looked at me.
“You need statements.”
“I can download them.”
“All of them.”
I did.
Then I checked the joint checking account.
A $9,000 cashier’s check had been issued the previous week.
Another $7,500 transfer had gone to Bennett Holdings.
I frowned.
“What is Bennett Holdings?”
Laura looked up.
“You tell me.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
Rachel whispered, “Evan’s family has a company?”
“They own the banquet property through an LLC.”
I searched the name.
Nothing useful appeared immediately.
Then my phone rang.
It was the bank’s fraud department.
“Mrs. Bennett, we’re calling to verify an unusual inquiry associated with your home-equity line.”
I stood so quickly the chair rolled backward.
“My what?”
“Your home-equity line of credit.”
“I don’t have one.”
The representative paused.
“Mrs. Bennett, our records show a $185,000 line secured against your residence.”
The room went silent.
“When was that opened?”
“Four months ago.”
I looked at Laura.
She was already reaching for a legal pad.
“Who signed it?”
“Our records show both you and Mr. Bennett.”
“I never signed anything.”
Another pause.
“Ma’am, are you saying you believe your signature was forged?”
My hand started shaking.
“Yes.”
The representative transferred me to a fraud specialist.
While we waited, Laura turned the custody affidavit back toward me.
Financially irresponsible.
Threatened to empty accounts.
Violent.
Unstable.
Every lie suddenly had a purpose.
Evan hadn’t simply been preparing to divorce me.
He had been preparing an explanation for the moment I discovered what he had done.
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And if he could convince a judge that I was irrational enough, maybe no one would believe me when I started asking where $185,000 had gone.
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