Chapter 4: Everything She Moved While He Was Looking Away
Andre didn't sleep that night.
He sat at his kitchen table — the kitchen of the apartment that was supposed to be their first home together — with Loretta's documents spread out in front of him and his phone open to the number of his attorney, Marcus Webb, who had picked up on the second ring even at eleven-thirty at night and listened without interrupting for six straight minutes.
"Tell me you still have the originals," Marcus said when Andre finished.
"Both of them.
In my hand."
"Don't put them down.
Don't let them out of your sight tonight.
I'll be at your place at eight tomorrow morning." A pause.
"Andre.
Is she still in the apartment?"
Andre looked toward the hallway.
The bedroom door was closed.
The light under it had gone off an hour ago.
"Yes," he said.
"Don't confront her again tonight.
Don't ask questions.
Don't let her know you've contacted me."
"She already knows something is happening."
"Knowing something is happening is different from knowing how much you know.
Those are two very different positions.
Keep it that way until morning." Marcus's voice was calm and deliberate.
"And pull up your joint accounts online right now, while we're on the phone.
Tell me exactly what you see."
Andre opened his laptop.
The joint checking account they had opened together two months ago — Simone's suggestion, for the wedding expenses, she had said — showed a balance of forty-seven dollars.
"Marcus."
"Tell me."
"The account is almost empty.
There was over fourteen thousand in there yesterday."
A beat of silence.
"What about your mother's accounts?
Do you have access to check those?"
"She gave me her online credentials last year after Dad passed.
She wanted me to be able to see if anything looked wrong." He pulled up the second window.
His stomach dropped.
"Her savings account.
Marcus, her savings account is showing a pending transfer.
Thirty-two thousand dollars.
Initiated this morning."
"This morning." Marcus said it slowly.
"The day of the wedding."
"She initiated it this morning," Andre said.
"While my mother was getting dressed to come watch her son get married."
The bedroom light clicked back on under the door.
Andre closed the laptop without making a sound.
"I have to go," he said quietly.
"Eight o'clock," Marcus said.
"Don't touch those documents."
Andre hung up.
He gathered the papers carefully, folded them, and slid them into the inside pocket of his jacket hanging on the chair.
Then he sat very still and listened.
Footsteps.
The bathroom.
The tap running.
Then quiet again.
He did not move until the light under the door went off for the second time.
In the morning, he was already dressed and sitting at the kitchen table when Simone came out.
She was composed.
Hair done.
Coffee in her own hand — she had made it without offering him any, which was a small thing but a thing he noticed.
"We should talk," she said.
"We should," Andre agreed.
She sat across from him.
She had chosen the chair that faced the window, which put the morning light behind her and left his face in full view.
He noticed that too.
"What happened last night got out of hand," she said.
"Your mother is upset, and I understand that.
But she has been confused about her finances before.
You know that."
"She's not confused," Andre said.
"Andre—"
"The bank flagged a pending transfer of thirty-two thousand dollars from her savings account this morning," he said.
"Initiated yesterday.
Do you want to tell me about that?"
Simone's coffee cup didn't move.
Her hands didn't move.
Her expression shifted by something very small — almost nothing.
Almost.
"I was managing some of her bills," she said.
"She asked me to."
"She asked you to transfer thirty-two thousand dollars."
"She asked me to help with her finances.
She gets overwhelmed.
You know how she—"
"Stop saying you know how she gets." Andre's voice came out quiet and absolute.
"She's a sixty-seven-year-old woman who raised me alone after my father left.
She built a life from nothing.
She is not confused, and she did not ask you to touch her savings."
Simone set the cup down.
"You've already spoken to someone, haven't you."
It wasn't a question.
"I want the ring back," Andre said.
Her eyes went to her hand.
The heirloom ring was still on her finger.
She had slept with it on.
"It was given to me at our wedding," she said.
"It was taken from my mother's hand while she was on the floor.
I want it back today." He stood up.
"And I want Daniel's full name."
For the first time since the reception hall, Simone looked at him without calculating anything.
For just a moment, something real moved across her face.
Not guilt.
Not quite.
Something more like the recognition that the ground she had been standing on was no longer solid.
"You don't know what you're getting into," she said softly.
"Tell me his name."
She stood up.
Picked up her coffee.
Walked back toward the bedroom without answering.
The door clicked shut behind her.
Andre reached for his phone.
He had already taken photographs of both documents the night before.
He sent them to Marcus's email now.
May you like
Then he sent them to a second address — one he had looked up at two in the morning when he couldn't sleep.
The Fraud Division of the State Attorney's office.
