Chapter 7: The Call I Almost Didn't Make
I stared at that message for a long time.
Outside the window, I could hear Ethan and my father's voices in the driveway — low, controlled, the careful register of two people who were not shouting because one of them had decided that shouting would be a waste of the moment.
I couldn't make out the words.
I didn't try.
My father knew how to handle a conversation like that far better than I did, and Noah was still asleep, and the message on my phone was still sitting there asking me to make a decision.
*The job he says he lost.*
I read it again.
Then I looked at the number.
It was a local area code, nothing I recognized.
Could be anyone.
Could be nothing.
Could also be exactly what it sounded like — someone who knew something and had chosen tonight to say so.
I pressed call.
It rang twice.
"Camila." A man's voice.
Measured.
A little cautious.
"I wasn't sure you'd call."
"Who is this?"
"My name is Raymond Okafor.
I worked with Ethan at Prestige Financial.
I was his direct supervisor."
I waited.
"I want to be upfront with you," he said.
"I debated whether to contact you at all.
But I saw your mother-in-law at the grocery store last week and she made a comment about you — something dismissive, about how you weren't capable of managing the household finances.
And it bothered me.
Because the person who wasn't managing finances correctly wasn't you."
"What does that mean?"
Raymond exhaled slowly.
"Ethan didn't lose his job, Camila.
He was terminated for cause.
Specifically, for submitting falsified expense reports over a period of roughly fourteen months.
We're talking about just over forty thousand dollars in fraudulent reimbursements."
The room felt very still.
"He was given the choice to resign quietly or face formal reporting to the board and potential legal action," Raymond continued.
"He resigned.
As a professional courtesy, we did not involve outside authorities.
But his personnel record reflects the true reason."
"Forty thousand dollars," I said.
"Yes."
"He told me the company downsized."
"I know what he told people.
That's part of why I'm calling.
Because if you're making financial decisions — about your living situation, about your son — based on what he told you, you deserve to know the actual picture."
I looked at Noah's sleeping face in the dark.
"Is there documentation?" I said.
"There is.
His signed resignation agreement references the cause.
I can't share internal records directly, but if there's ever a legal process — a family law matter, for example — his attorney would be obligated to produce them in discovery."
"Thank you," I said.
"I mean that."
"I'm sorry it took me this long," Raymond said.
"I should have found a way to tell you sooner."
After I hung up, I sat without moving for several minutes.
Forty thousand dollars.
Fourteen months.
The expense reports had been fraudulent the entire time we had been saving for Noah.
The entire time I was working extra hours, cutting groceries down to the essentials, telling myself we just needed to be careful a little longer.
He had been stealing from his employer while I was counting dollars at the checkout line.
I picked up my phone again and called my father.
He answered before the first ring finished.
"I need you to come upstairs," I said.
"There's something you need to hear."
May you like
A pause.
"On my way," he said.
