PART 8
My score had dropped thirty-six points.
Not catastrophic.
But real.
Then Nina found a hard inquiry from another lender.
Different company.
Different amount.
$180,000.
Personal line of credit.
I felt sick.
“How many times?”
“Still looking.”
By noon, we found five inquiries.
Two business lenders.
One private lender.
One home-equity lender.
One credit union.
Total requested financing.
Nearly $1.1 million.
All using my information.
Some had been denied.
Two were pending.
One had been conditionally approved.
I stared at Brandon’s name on the application.
Applicant.
Charlotte Reynolds.
Co-applicant.
Brandon Reynolds.
Income.
My salary.
Assets.
My house.
Liabilities.
Falsified.
Purpose.
Family real-estate expansion.
I laughed once.
It sounded ugly.
Rachel looked at me.
“What?”
“Apparently, I’m expanding.”
PART 9
Then Peter found the hidden bank account.
The one I already suspected.
Brandon had opened it under a company called:
BRH Property Solutions LLC.
B.
Brandon.
R.
Reynolds.
H.
Probably Hailey.
Or maybe Gertrude.
We checked.
Registered owners.
Brandon Reynolds.
Hailey Reynolds.
Gertrude Reynolds.
All three.
I sat back.
The address was our house.
My house.
Then Peter traced transfers from our joint account.
Small at first.
$800.
$1,200.
$950.
Then larger.
$6,000.
$12,000.
$15,000.
Over eleven months, $74,300 had moved into BRH.
I stared at the total.
“Where did it go?”
Peter looked at me.
“Mostly out.”
“To where?”
He highlighted categories.
Luxury restaurants.
Hotels.
Furniture.
A leased SUV.
Credit-card payments.
And payments to Crestline Development Partners.
I looked at Rachel.
“They were already paying Darren.”
“Yes.”
“With my money.”
“Yes.”
“For a loan against my house.”
“Yes.”
The arrogance was almost impressive.
PART 10
Then Nina found another account.
This one was worse.
A custodial savings account I had created for Skylar when she was born.
College money.
Birthday money.
Gifts from my parents.
Small automatic monthly contributions.
Balance six months earlier.
$38,600.
Current balance.
$4,120.
I stopped breathing.
“No.”
Peter said nothing.
I refreshed the screen.
Maybe wrong account.
Maybe old balance.
No.
Withdrawals.
$5,000.
$7,500.
$4,000.
$10,000.
$8,000.
All signed electronically by Brandon as parent.
I had never added him as authorized custodian.
Then I saw the change form.
My signature again.
Fake.
I stood.
Rachel immediately said,
“Charlotte.”
“He stole from Skylar.”
“I know.”
“He stole her college money.”
“I know.”
The seafood suddenly felt small.
The instant soup.
The card.
The humiliation.
All of it was sitting on top of something bigger.
They had not been treating Skylar as less important by accident.
They had already decided her money belonged to them too.
PART 11
Rachel made me sit down.
Then she said,
“We’re going to do this properly.”
I wanted to call Brandon.
I wanted to scream.
I wanted him to know I knew.
Rachel stopped me.
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
“Because the architect meeting is in less than two hours.”
I stared at her.
“You want it to happen?”
“I want to know who attends.”
That changed my thinking.
We contacted law enforcement.
Not emergency police.
Financial crimes.
Forgery.
Identity theft.
Potential real-estate fraud.
The investigator who took the initial report was Detective Aaron Mills.
He listened carefully.
Then asked,
“Do you have evidence of the forged power of attorney?”
“Yes.”
“Original?”
“Digital copy.”
“Any communication from your husband?”
“Not about the loan.”
“Any messages from the developer?”
“Yes.”
He told us not to interfere with the meeting directly.
Then he said,
“If they submit forged documents today, that creates a clearer record.”
I understood.
They needed to act.
Not just plan.
So I waited.
