Chapter 6: The Money That Wasn't Mine
I stared at the recipient's name until the letters blurred.
Daniel Brooks.
The same man who had walked into our Sunday dinner and thanked me for saving his life.
The same man who had calmly told my brother that a person's worth couldn't be measured by a business contract.
And now his name was connected to an account opened in mine.
"How much was transferred?"" I asked.
Marcus turned the laptop slightly so I could see the figure clearly.
It was a substantial payment, enough to make my chest tighten.
"Was this money paid to Mr. Brooks?"" I asked.
"No. The transaction record lists his company as the intended recipient, but the payment was returned. That's how we found the discrepancy.""
"Why would my company be sending money to his company?""
"That's one of the questions we're investigating.""
I pressed my fingertips against my forehead.
"Marcus, I don't have a company. I don't have business accounts. I don't even know how to read half these forms.""
"I understand.""
"No, I don't think you do. I work in an emergency room. I go to work, I come home, and I pay my bills.
I don't own properties. I don't collect rent. I've never managed a commercial building.""
"I believe you, Simone.""
"Then why is my name on all of this?""
Marcus leaned back.
"Because somebody put it there.""
His answer was simple.
And terrifying.
He closed the laptop.
"I'm not asking you to decide what happened tonight. I'm asking you to protect yourself. Our attorney has recommended that we preserve every record and avoid making accusations until the review is complete.""
"I've already contacted an attorney.""
"Good.""
"I want copies of everything connected to my name.""
"I'll provide the records we're legally permitted to share. Your attorney can request the rest through the appropriate process.""
I nodded.
Then I looked at him.
"Did Reggie know the payment to Mr. Brooks would be returned?""
Marcus's expression tightened.
"I don't know.""
"Did he intend for it to reach Mr. Brooks?""
"I don't know that, either.""
I wanted him to give me something definite. One fact that would make the situation easier to understand.
Instead, he gave me the truth.
He didn't know.
And neither did I.
When we left the coffee shop, the evening air felt heavy against my skin. Cars moved through the intersection, and a bus hissed to a stop beside the curb.
Marcus paused beside his vehicle.
"Simone, I need to tell you something else.""
I turned.
"Go ahead.""
"Reggie has been under pressure for months. He told me he had a major investor lined up, and he used that promise to persuade me to keep the business operating while we waited for additional funds.""
"Was there an investor?""
"He gave me a name, but I haven't been able to verify the commitment.""
"Did you give him money?""
Marcus looked away.
"Yes.""
"How much?""
He told me.
I felt another wave of disbelief.
"Why?""
"Because I believed in the business. We had clients. We had properties to manage. I thought we were building something legitimate.""
"Did you ever question the way he handled money?""
"Yes. Several times.""
"And what did he say?""
"That I didn't understand the financial structure. That he had everything under control. That I was slowing down the company by asking too many questions.""
I thought about the way Reggie had spoken to me at dinner.
The same confidence. The same contempt for anyone who questioned him.
Marcus rubbed his face.
"I should have looked more closely.""
"You can't take responsibility for every choice he made.""
"No. But I can take responsibility for the ones I made.""
He opened his car door, then paused.
"If your brother contacts you again, don't let him pressure you into meeting alone or signing anything. Keep the messages. Let your attorney advise you.""
I thanked him and watched him drive away.
On the ride home, I called Mr. Brooks.
He answered after two rings.
"Simone.""
"I'm sorry to call you again.""
"You don't need to apologize.""
"I've learned that an account opened in my name made a payment listing your company as the recipient. I don't know why. The payment was apparently returned.""
There was a long silence.
Then Mr. Brooks said, "Thank you for telling me.""
"Did you receive any money from my brother's company?""
"No. My accounting team informed me that a payment connected to the proposed management arrangement had been rejected. At the time, I was told it appeared to be an administrative error.""
"Did anyone contact you about it?""
"One of my employees contacted Reggie's office. He said the problem would be corrected.""
I gripped the steering wheel.
"Did he mention my name?""
"No. But now that you've told me about the account, I'll ask our accounting department to preserve the relevant records.""
"I don't want you to think I was involved.""
"Simone, I know you weren't involved in my medical care for money. You never asked me for anything. And I have no reason to believe you authorized this transaction.""
His words brought an unexpected sting to my eyes.
"Thank you.""
"Listen to me carefully," he said.
"You helped me when I was helpless. That doesn't mean you owe me anything now. Don't put yourself at risk trying to protect my business interests.""
"I'm not trying to protect your business. I'm trying to find out why my name is being used.""
"Then focus on that. Let the proper people investigate the rest.""
After we ended the call, I sat in my parked car for several minutes.
I thought about the night Mr. Brooks had arrived at the hospital.
I remembered his hand closing around mine as we explained what the doctors were doing. I remembered him asking whether he was going to die.
I had told him we were doing everything we could.
I had not promised him a miracle.
I had simply stayed.
Now I was facing a crisis I couldn't solve by working harder or remaining calm.
I needed evidence. I needed legal advice. And I needed to accept that the person responsible might be my own brother.
When I reached my apartment, Mother was sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea.
She looked up immediately.
"How did it go?""
I placed my handbag on the counter.
"Badly.""
She closed her eyes.
"Oh, Reggie.""
I sat beside her and explained what Marcus had shown me, carefully distinguishing what we knew from what we still needed to verify.
Mother listened without interrupting.
When I finished, she stared at the table.
"He wouldn't do this.""
I wanted to tell her she was right.
Instead, I asked, "Do you remember the money he borrowed from me two years ago?""
She nodded.
"He said it was for a property renovation.""
"He told me he had a contractor who needed payment. I gave him the money because I trusted him.""
"I remember.""
"Do you know what happened to it?""
Mother shook her head.
"No.""
"Neither do I.""
She looked at me with tears gathering in her eyes.
"Why didn't you tell me you were worried about him?""
"Because I didn't want you to worry.""
"And now?""
I took her hand.
"Now I'm worried anyway.""
For a long time, neither of us spoke.
Then Mother stood, walked to her handbag, and pulled out an old envelope.
"I need to show you something.""
She returned to the table and placed it between us.
Inside were several printed emails and a folded document.
"Reggie gave me these last year," she said.
"He told me he was arranging some paperwork for the family. He said I might need to sign something to help him secure a loan.""
I looked at her sharply.
"Did you sign it?""
"No. I told him I wanted to read it first. He got irritated and said I was making things difficult.""
"What happened to the document?""
"He took it back.""
I unfolded the papers.
Most were ordinary correspondence about property expenses and business planning. But one email caught my attention.
It was addressed to Reggie from someone at a financial services company.
The subject line read: *Additional Authorized Signatory Required.*
I scanned the message.
The sender explained that a particular account structure required supporting documentation for any person listed as an authorized representative. The email mentioned identification, written consent, and a signature verification process.
I read it again.
"Mother, when did he give you these?""
"About eight months ago.""
I checked the date.
It was several weeks before the company listed under my name had been registered.
A cold feeling settled in my stomach.
"Did he ever ask for a copy of my driver's license?""
Mother looked startled.
"Yes.""
"When?""
"Last spring. He said he needed it to verify some family information for an insurance form.""
I stared at her.
"Did you give it to him?""
"I thought you already knew about it.""
"I didn't.""
She pressed both hands against her mouth.
"Oh, Simone.""
I reached across the table and squeezed her fingers.
"Don't panic. We don't know exactly what happened yet.""
But I was beginning to understand why Reggie had been so frightened when Marcus discovered the account.
If he had used my identification to establish a company, then the false signature might only be one part of the story.
I photographed the papers and sent them to my attorney with a short explanation. Then I placed the originals in a folder and put them in my bedroom.
At 10:17 p.m., someone knocked on my apartment door.
Mother and I both froze.
I checked the peephole.
Reggie stood in the hallway.
He had changed out of his patterned shirt and was wearing a gray sweatshirt. His hair was disheveled, and his eyes looked red from exhaustion.
I opened the door but kept the chain engaged.
"What do you want?""
"Please let me in.""
"No.""
He stared at me.
"Simone, I'm your brother.""
"And I'm the person whose name appears on your financial paperwork.""
He looked past me toward the living room.
"Mama's here?""
"Yes.""
"Can I talk to both of you?""
I hesitated, then removed the chain.
He stepped inside and stood near the door, looking at the apartment as if he had forgotten what to do with his hands.
Mother rose from the couch.
"Reggie, what have you done?""
He flinched.
"I haven't done anything to hurt you, Mama.""
"What about Simone?""
He looked at me.
"I never wanted to hurt you.""
"Then tell me the truth.""
He sat on the edge of a chair.
For the first time, he didn't reach for his phone or check his watch. He simply stared at the floor.
"I was trying to save the company," he said.
"From what?""
"Debt.""
The word fell between us.
He rubbed his palms against his jeans.
"We had expenses coming due. A couple of clients paid late. An investor backed out. Marcus started asking questions, and I thought I could fix everything before anybody noticed.""
"How?""
He swallowed.
"I moved money between accounts.""
"Whose money?""
He didn't answer.
"Reggie.""
"Some of it belonged to clients.""
Mother made a small, wounded sound.
I gripped the back of the couch.
"How much?""
"I don't know the final amount.""
"That's not good enough.""
"I know!""
His voice broke, and he lowered his head.
For a moment, I saw the desperation beneath his pride.
Then I remembered the forged signature.
"The company in my name," I said.
"Did you create it?""
He stared at the carpet.
"Yes.""
"Did you sign my name?""
His eyes filled with tears.
"Yes.""
Mother sat down heavily.
I felt as though the room had lost all its air.
"Did you use my identification?""
He nodded.
"Yes.""
I took a step backward.
"Why?""
"Because I thought it would be temporary. I needed an account that could handle the transfers while I sorted out the company's finances. I was going to put everything back.""
"With whose permission?""
He didn't answer.
"Mine?""
"No.""
The honesty of that single word hurt more than another excuse would have.
I sat down because my knees had begun to tremble.
"You used my identity without my permission. You moved money through a company you put in my name. And you let me sit at dinner while you told me my career wasn't worth respecting.""
Reggie covered his face.
"I know.""
"No, I don't think you do.""
He looked up.
"I was ashamed.""
"Then why did you insult me?""
His eyes dropped again.
"Because you had everything I wanted.""
I stared at him.
"I work twelve-hour shifts. I drive an ordinary car. I live in a small apartment. What exactly do you think I have?""
"People trust you.""
The words came out in a whisper.
"You help people, and they respect you. You don't have to convince anyone you're successful. You just are.""
I could barely process what I was hearing.
"So you tried to make me look small because you felt small?""
He didn't answer.
Mother began to cry.
"Reggie, why didn't you ask us for help?""
He shook his head.
"Because I couldn't admit I'd failed.""
I looked at the man who had spent years boasting about his future, and for the first time, I understood the depth of his fear.
But understanding it did not erase what he had done.
"What happened the night Mr. Brooks was in the hospital?"" I asked.
Reggie's expression changed.
"I told you. I had a deadline.""
"What deadline?""
He looked at me, then at Mother.
"I was supposed to meet someone that night. Someone who promised to give me the money I needed to cover the account.""
"Who?""
He swallowed hard.
"An investor.""
"What's his name?""
Reggie looked toward the door.
"I can't tell you.""
I stood.
"Then you need to leave.""
"Simone, please.""
"No. You came here to explain, and you've admitted to using my identity. But you're still hiding something.""
He rose slowly.
"That night, if I'd gone to the hospital, I would have lost the only chance I had to save the company.""
I stared at him.
"Was that why you refused the call?""
He closed his eyes.
"Yes.""
Mother shook her head in disbelief.
"And you think that makes it all right?""
"No.""
For the first time, he sounded certain.
"No, Mama. I don't.""
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
"I brought you something.""
He placed it on the table.
It was a printed email.
At the top was the name of the investor Reggie had refused to identify.
Beneath it was a message sent six months earlier, timestamped the same evening Mr. Brooks had been admitted to the emergency department.
I read the first sentence.
Then I read the name again.
My heart began to pound.
Because the person who had promised to save Reggie's company wasn't a stranger.
May you like
It was someone from our own family.
And Reggie had refused to answer the hospital's call because, that same night, he had been given an ultimatum that could have changed all our lives.
