Chapter 2: The Money That Disappeared
I sat on the edge of my bed, still wearing the blue dress I'd chosen for my birthday.
Outside, I could hear Tiffany shouting.
She was still furious about the handbag.
I almost laughed.
My birthday cake was destroyed, my granddaughter was crying, and my daughter-in-law was screaming about a purse.
Meanwhile, someone had apparently stolen $84,500 from my savings.
"Ma'am?"" the bank representative repeated.
"Are you still with me?""
"Yes. I'm sorry. Please tell me exactly what happened.""
"My name is Patricia. I'm with the fraud prevention department. Our system flagged several transfers from your savings account.""
"How many?""
"Three transactions over the past six weeks. The total is $84,500.""
I closed my eyes.
"That can't be right. I haven't transferred that money.""
"According to our records, the transactions were authorized through a power of attorney on file.""
I sat upright.
"A what?""
"A power of attorney, Mrs. Bennett. It grants another individual authority to conduct certain financial transactions on your behalf.""
"I never signed one.""
Patricia stopped typing.
"Are you certain?""
"I'm sixty-five years old, not incapable of remembering signing legal documents.""
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to suggest otherwise.""
I walked to my desk and opened the drawer where I kept important paperwork.
My husband's death certificate. Our mortgage documents. Insurance policies. Bank statements.
Everything was organized in labeled folders.
I had never given anyone power of attorney.
Not Daniel.
Not Tiffany.
Nobody.
"Patricia, can you tell me who submitted this document?""
"One moment, please.""
I heard keyboard clicks.
Then silence.
"Mrs. Bennett?""
"Yes?""
"The application lists your son, Daniel Bennett, as the person submitting the paperwork.""
My fingers went numb.
"Daniel?""
"Yes. The document also contains two witness signatures.""
"Who are they?""
Patricia hesitated.
"One is listed as Daniel Bennett. The other is a notary public.""
I pressed my hand against my mouth.
My own son had submitted a document claiming authority over my money.
"Can you freeze the account?""
"We can place a temporary restriction while our fraud team investigates. Would you like us to proceed?""
"Immediately.""
"Certainly. We'll also flag any pending transactions.""
I ended the call and stared at the wall.
For a moment, I couldn't breathe.
Then my laptop chimed.
An email had arrived from the bank.
I opened the attachment.
The first page showed my name, account number, and an address I recognized.
The second page showed the destination account for the transfers.
I read the name twice.
Tiffany Collins Bennett.
My daughter-in-law.
The transfers were $25,000, $29,500, and $30,000.
All three had gone into an account under her name.
I leaned back in my chair.
The woman who had called me useless had been quietly taking my money.
And my son had helped her.
I scrolled farther down.
There was a scanned copy of the power of attorney.
The signature looked like mine.
The loops in the M were almost perfect. The final stroke of my last name even had the little upward curve I used when signing documents.
But I knew I hadn't signed it.
My husband had taught me to recognize my own signature because we'd spent years signing business and property paperwork together.
This one was convincing.
Too convincing.
I called the bank again.
"Patricia, I need you to look at something else.""
"Of course.""
"Has anyone applied for a loan using my property?""
A few seconds passed.
Then Patricia spoke more slowly.
"Actually, Mrs. Bennett, there is another application associated with your information.""
My stomach tightened.
"What application?""
"A home equity loan for $210,000.""
I stood so quickly that my chair scraped backward.
"Against my house?""
"Yes, ma'am.""
"Who submitted it?""
"The application was received last week.""
"Was it approved?""
"It is currently under review.""
I gripped the desk.
"Cancel it.""
"We'll place a fraud alert and suspend processing. However, you'll need to complete additional identity verification.""
"Do whatever you need to do.""
Patricia lowered her voice.
"Mrs. Bennett, I recommend you contact an attorney as soon as possible. There are documents here that suggest someone may be attempting to exercise financial authority over your property.""
I thanked her and ended the call.
My house.
The house Robert and I had bought when Daniel was four years old.
The house where we'd celebrated Christmas, watched thunderstorms from the porch, and measured Daniel's height against the kitchen doorframe.
Robert had spent thirty years paying off that mortgage.
He'd worked overtime, skipped vacations, and repaired every broken thing himself.
Before he died, he'd taken my hands and said, "Margaret, this house is yours. Nobody gets to make you leave.""
I walked to the window.
Through the glass, I could see Daniel loading leftover food into his car.
Tiffany stood beside him, still furious, gesturing wildly as she talked.
Then Daniel looked toward my bedroom window.
For one brief second, our eyes met.
He immediately looked away.
My phone buzzed.
It was a text from Lily.
"Grandma, are you awake?""
I typed back.
"Yes, sweetheart. Are you okay?""
Her reply came almost immediately.
"Mommy and Daddy are fighting.""
I frowned.
"What about?""
A few seconds passed.
Then another message appeared.
"Daddy says you weren't supposed to find out until after they moved you.""
My heart stopped.
I typed with trembling fingers.
"Moved me where, sweetheart?""
The typing bubble appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Then Lily sent a photograph.
It showed a thick folder lying on the kitchen counter.
Across the front were four words.
ASSISTED LIVING ADMISSION AGREEMENT.
Beneath them was my full name.
May you like
And beside it was a scheduled admission date.
Tomorrow morning.
