Chapter 9 - Bennett Holdings
The forensic accountant’s name was Marcus Bell.
Laura brought him into the case four days later.
He wore reading glasses on the end of his nose and spoke about money the way surgeons talk about arteries.
“Money leaves scars,” he told me.
“People think transfers erase history.”
“They don’t.”
He traced the home-equity funds first.
$185,000 had been deposited into an account controlled by Evan.
Within twenty-four hours, $120,000 went to Bennett Holdings.
Another $40,000 went to a commercial lender.
The remainder was split across three smaller accounts.
Then Marcus traced our savings.
Nearly all of it ended up at Bennett Holdings too.
“What does the company own?” I asked.
“Currently?”
“Yes.”
“Very little.”
My stomach tightened.
“The banquet hall?”
“Transferred eight months ago.”
“To whom?”
“A separate LLC.”
“Owned by?”
Marcus turned his laptop toward me.
I read the name twice.
Evan Bennett.
My husband.
“He owns the banquet hall?”
“Technically.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“That appears to be the point.”
Marcus clicked another file.
“The property carried significant debt.”
“How significant?”
“Approximately $640,000.”
I stared at him.
“Evan never told me.”
“The company has missed several payments.”
Laura asked, “And Claire’s home-equity funds?”
“Used to prevent default.”
So there it was.
My home had been secretly mortgaged to keep Diane’s banquet hall alive.
I thought that was the worst part.
It wasn’t.
Marcus opened another document.
“There’s also an account in Mia’s name.”
I went still.
“What?”
“A custodial investment account.”
“We never opened one.”
“Someone did.”
“How much?”
“It received twenty-five thousand dollars approximately eighteen months ago.”
“From where?”
“Diane.”
That surprised me.
“Then why is that bad?”
Marcus looked at Laura before answering.
“Because the money stayed there for eleven days.”
“Where did it go?”
“Back out.”
“To Bennett Holdings.”
I felt sick.
“They used my daughter’s name?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Marcus adjusted his glasses.
“Possibly to create the appearance of a gift.”
“Possibly to move money temporarily.”
“Possibly for tax reasons.”
“We need more records.”
Then he showed me the account-opening document.
Custodian: Evan Bennett.
Beneficiary: Mia Bennett.
Emergency contact: Claire Bennett.
My phone number was correct.
My email address was not.
One letter had been changed.
Enough to ensure notifications never reached me.
I stared at the form.
Laura said, “Claire?”
“They didn’t just steal from me.”
“No.”
“They used her.”
Marcus nodded.
“And that may be where this becomes much more serious.”
I remembered Diane’s words at the banquet.
Defective genetics.
Useless.
Trash.
She had treated Mia as if she were an embarrassment.
Yet when Mia’s name became financially convenient, suddenly my daughter was useful.
My anger became strangely quiet.
I no longer wanted to scream at Diane.
I wanted records.
Dates.
Signatures.
Statements.
I wanted every lie arranged neatly in front of someone with the authority to turn them into consequences.
Marcus closed one file and opened another.
Then he frowned.
“What?”
Laura noticed too.
Marcus leaned closer to the screen.
“There’s another account.”
“In Mia’s name?”
“No.”
“Whose?”
He looked at me.
May you like
“Yours.”
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