Chapter 6: The Moment She Thought She Had Already Won
Simone left the apartment at ten-fifteen while Andre was still in the kitchen with Marcus and Patricia.
He heard the front door close — careful, controlled, not a slam — and watched from the window as she walked to her car below.
She didn't look up.
She drove away in the direction of the financial district.
Marcus watched from beside him.
"She's moving."
"To do what?" Andre asked.
"To protect what she can.
She knows you've contacted someone.
She'll try to access whatever she hasn't yet accessed before a freeze can be put in place." He turned from the window.
"Patricia, call the bank now.
Use the fraud line, not the general number."
Patricia was already dialing.
Andre reached for his jacket.
"Where are you going?" Marcus asked.
"To my mother's house.
I want to be with her when you call her in."
"Good." Marcus nodded.
"Don't stop anywhere first.
And if Simone contacts you — by call, text, anything — don't respond until I've seen the message."
Andre drove to Loretta's house in twenty-two minutes.
She was already dressed and sitting at her kitchen table with a cup of tea she hadn't touched.
When he walked in she stood up and held him for a long moment without saying anything.
He felt how small she felt.
How much older than last year.
"I'm sorry," he said into her hair.
"You didn't do this," she said.
"Don't carry that."
He pulled back and looked at her.
"You said the last time she was here was eight days ago.
What did she do while she was here, Mom?
Walk me through it."
Loretta sat back down.
She wrapped both hands around the tea mug.
"She said she had a question about the centerpieces.
Whether I preferred white roses or cream." She shook her head slightly.
"I remember thinking it was a strange thing to drive over for.
But I was glad for the company." She paused.
"She asked to use the bathroom.
She was back there for — I don't know — maybe eight minutes.
Longer than you'd need.
I remember thinking the printer must have made a noise, because I heard something from the office."
"The office is next to the bathroom."
"Yes." Loretta looked at her hands.
"She came back and we talked about the flowers and she left.
She hugged me at the door.
Called me her second mother." Her voice stayed level but her knuckles had gone white around the mug.
"I didn't check the office until the next day."
"What did you find?"
"I thought everything was in order.
I didn't know what to look for." She looked up at him.
"But my file folders were not where I leave them.
I keep them in a very specific order.
I've kept them that way for thirty years.
They were moved." She set the mug down.
"I told myself I had done it myself and forgotten."
Andre's phone buzzed.
Marcus.
He answered.
"Patricia reached the bank," Marcus said.
"The transfer has been frozen pending investigation.
The thirty-two thousand is still in your mother's account."
Andre exhaled once, sharply.
"Thank God."
"Don't celebrate yet.
The destination account — the one on the transfer form — was opened eleven days ago.
It's a shell account registered to a business entity that was formed two months before that." A pause.
"The registered agent for that business entity is listed as a Daniel Hargrove, attorney-at-law, licensed in this state."
Andre's hand tightened on the phone.
"She did plan this before the wedding," he said.
"Well before," Marcus said.
"This was not opportunistic, Andre.
This was constructed.
The business entity, the shell account, the power of attorney, the transfer form — someone put this together over months."
"Is Hargrove licensed here?"
"He is.
And he has two prior disciplinary actions on his bar record.
Neither resulted in disbarment." Marcus's voice was precise and without heat.
"They will be relevant when we file."
"File what?"
"A complaint with the bar association.
A report with the State Attorney's fraud division — which I understand you have already initiated contact with, ahead of me, which is actually very helpful." A brief pause.
"And a full civil suit against both Simone and Hargrove for financial elder fraud."
Loretta was watching Andre's face.
He looked at her and she understood from his expression that it was not good news, but that it was moving forward.
"There's one more thing," Marcus said.
"I need you to be aware of it."
"Tell me."
"Simone's name is not on the destination account.
Her name is not on the business entity.
Hargrove's name is.
Simone structured this so that on paper, she doesn't exist in the transaction." He let that land.
"Which means she will almost certainly claim she had no knowledge of the transfer, that Hargrove acted independently, and that she is a victim of his actions as much as your mother is."
Andre stood completely still.
"She'll blame him," he said.
"She'll try to.
Which is why what we find in the next forty-eight hours matters more than anything else." A pause.
"We need something that puts Simone's fingerprints on this directly.
Her communications with Hargrove.
Emails.
Texts.
A meeting record.
Anything."
Andre looked at his mother's kitchen.
The small table.
The untouched tea.
The file folders that had been moved and put back in the wrong order.
"She used her own phone when she visited," he said slowly.
"She pulled it out at the table.
She made a call while she was sitting right there — she stepped outside to take it, but she had the phone in her hand when she came back in."
"Her phone records," Marcus said quietly.
"If we can show she was in contact with Hargrove on the days she visited your mother—"
"She won't hand over her phone."
"She doesn't have to." A brief pause.
"Her carrier does."
Andre heard something in the background on Marcus's end — Patricia's voice, low and quick.
"I'll call you back in ten minutes," Marcus said.
"Stay with your mother."
The call ended.
Loretta looked at Andre.
"Is it going to be all right?"
He pulled out the chair across from her and sat down.
He reached across the table and covered both her hands with his.
"I'm going to make it all right," he said.
"Whatever it takes."
She looked at him for a long moment.
Then she turned her hand over and held his.
Outside, somewhere across the city, Simone was sitting in a car or an office or a coffee shop, believing she had built this carefully enough that she could walk away clean.
She didn't know yet that her own phone had been with her every time she visited.
May you like
She didn't know yet that Loretta remembered the exact dates.
And she didn't know yet that the printer in the home office had an activity log — every document scanned, copied, or printed, time-stamped automatically — and that Loretta's son knew exactly how to pull it.
