Chapter 10: The Name Behind the Fraud
“Who gave Mason my information?”” I asked.
Daniel didn't answer immediately.
I could hear traffic passing on his end of the call, followed by the metallic sound of a door closing.
“Claire, you need to promise me something first.””
I almost hung up.
“You have spent the last year making decisions for me without my permission. You don't get to demand promises anymore.””
“I'm trying to protect your parents.””
“Then tell me the truth.””
He exhaled shakily.
“The information came from the business application. Mason asked for identification documents for everyone listed as a potential investor.””
“I was never an investor.””
“I know.””
“And my father?””
“He wasn't supposed to be listed either.””
I gripped the edge of the hotel desk.
“Then how did his information end up in a financial application?””
Daniel's voice dropped.
“I gave Mason copies of some documents from our house.””
“What documents?””
“Old tax returns. Financial statements. Your father's address was on one of them because he helped us with our taxes when we first got married.””
“My father has never helped us prepare taxes.””
Daniel went silent.
The room seemed to grow colder.
“What are you talking about?””
“Your father sent us financial paperwork when we were applying for the mortgage. You must remember.””
I did remember our mortgage application. I remembered collecting pay stubs, bank statements, and employment records. But my father had never sent us his financial documents.
“He sent us a copy of his driver's license, too,” Daniel added.
My stomach tightened.
“No, he didn't.””
“Claire—”
“My father has never given you a copy of his driver's license.””
Daniel said nothing.
I pulled the phone away from my ear and stared at the screen, trying to understand whether I had misheard him.
Then I brought it back.
“Did you ask my father for his identification?””
“No.””
“Did you take it without his knowledge?””
“I thought it was part of the paperwork.””
“You thought my father's driver's license was part of our mortgage application?””
“I wasn't handling that part of the process.””
“Then who was?””
“Mason.””
I closed my eyes.
Every answer led to another lie, and every lie seemed to reach farther than the last.
“Daniel, I'm contacting my father. I'm also giving this information to the investigator.””
“Please don't mention Mason yet.””
“Why?””
“Because he'll move the money.””
“What money? The $62,000 you said was transferred?””
“Yes.””
“You told me the money was already gone.””
“It was transferred out of the business. I don't know where it is now.””
“And you expect me to believe Mason stole it?””
“I have bank records showing the transfer.””
“Then send them to me.””
“I will.””
“When?””
“Tomorrow.””
I almost laughed.
Tomorrow had become Daniel's favorite place to hide the truth.
“Send them tonight.””
He hesitated.
Then he said, “There's something else. The original transfer wasn't the only one.””
I sat down slowly.
“How many were there?””
“Three.””
“Three transfers into accounts connected to my father?””
“No. One connected to your father. The other two went through different accounts.””
“Whose accounts?””
“I don't know.””
“You expect me to believe you transferred hundreds of thousands of dollars without knowing where it went?””
“I didn't transfer all of it. Mason handled some of the transactions.””
“Did you sign the loan documents?””
“Yes.””
“Did you use my name?””
A long silence followed.
“Yes.””
The admission landed like a stone.
“Then you need to understand something,” I said.
“Whatever Mason did, you are responsible for your own decisions. I won't protect you from the consequences.””
“I know.””
“Do you?””
He began crying.
It was the first time I had heard him cry since we got married.
“I thought I could fix everything before you found out. I thought if I made enough money, I could repay the loans, replace your savings, and give you the life I promised.””
“You didn't give me a life, Daniel. You gave me a story and expected me to pay for it.””
He tried to speak, but I ended the call.
Then I called my father.
He answered on the fourth ring.
“Claire? It's late. Is everything all right?””
His ordinary, familiar voice nearly broke me.
“Dad, I need to ask you something important. Have you ever given Daniel a copy of your driver's license or signed any financial documents connected to his business?””
“No. Why?””
I told him what I had discovered, leaving out nothing that might affect his ability to understand the situation.
He listened without interrupting.
When I finished, his voice had changed.
“Claire, are you saying someone has used my identity?””
“It's possible. I don't want to assume anything until the investigator confirms it.””
“Your mother and I will check our records tonight. I'll contact our bank first thing in the morning.””
“Please don't contact Daniel.””
“I wasn't planning to.””
He paused.
“Are you safe?””
“Yes, Dad.””
“Are you sure?””
I looked around the hotel room.
For the first time in six years, I was sleeping somewhere Daniel couldn't walk into without my permission.
“Yes,” I said.
“I'm safe.””
After we hung up, I emailed Rebecca a summary of the conversation and asked whether she wanted me to report the possible misuse of my father's identity immediately.
She replied that we should document the information and coordinate with the appropriate authorities without delaying necessary protective measures.
I followed her instructions.
Then I opened my laptop and began reviewing every financial document I could access.
At 11:36 p.m., an email arrived from Daniel.
It contained three attachments.
The first was a bank statement showing the $62,000 transfer.
The second was an internal ledger listing several transactions under the heading Investor Reconciliation.
The third was a scanned document titled Beneficial Ownership and Funding Declaration.
My name appeared on the first page.
My father's name appeared on the second.
And on the final page, I found the signature of the person who had certified that both of us had personally approved the arrangement.
*Mason Cole.*
Below his signature was a date.
Eleven months earlier.
I forwarded everything to Rebecca.
Then I noticed a detail in the bank statement.
The $62,000 hadn't gone directly to an account belonging to my father.
It had gone to an account held by a company whose name I recognized from the investment brochure.
Harbor Ridge Holdings.
The same company connected to Mason.
I called Rebecca.
“Does this prove Mason took the money?””
“Not by itself,” she said.
“It shows a transaction that requires investigation. We need the complete account records and a clear understanding of the company's ownership and obligations.””
“What should I do next?””
“Preserve everything. Don't confront Mason. And don't let Daniel persuade you to sign anything.””
I thanked her and ended the call.
At 12:08 a.m., my father sent me a message.
I checked our files. We never gave Daniel our identification documents. But Claire, there's something else you should know.
A photograph followed.
It showed an envelope addressed to my father, postmarked six months earlier.
Inside was a letter from a financial company informing him that an application had been submitted using his personal information.
The application had been denied.
My father had never seen the letter before because it had been sent to an old address.
I stared at the date.
Six months earlier.
Before the first loan default.
Before Daniel admitted using my name.
Before the birthday dinner.
Someone had already tried to use my father's identity, and the attempt had been recorded months before I knew anything was wrong.
Then my father sent another message.
The letter says the application was submitted by someone who claimed to be your husband.
I read it twice.
May you like
Daniel had known about the first application.
And he had never told me.
