Chapter 7: The Calls That Had to Be Made
They used the small room off the main hall — a coat room, really, with a single window and a bench along one wall.
Derek sat on the bench.
Marcus stood.
The first call was to his bank.
He had the account number memorized.
He had set it up himself, three years ago, specifically for Maya.
He gave the representative his security details and asked for a full transaction history going back twenty-four months.
The representative put him on hold.
Marcus looked at the window.
Outside, he could see the edge of the garden — a corner of white arch, a slice of blue sky.
The representative came back.
"Mr.
Holloway, I can see the account.
The last incoming transfer was posted eighteen months ago.
After that date, the account shows no activity."
"What happened to the transfers after that date?"
"They would have been redirected if the account details were updated.
I can see a change-of-details request was submitted — let me check the date — yes, eighteen months ago.
The request changed the destination account number."
"Who submitted that request?"
A pause.
"The request was submitted online using your login credentials, sir."
Marcus looked at Derek.
Derek looked at the floor.
"I didn't submit that request," Marcus said.
"I understand.
I'd recommend filing a fraud report immediately.
I can transfer you to our fraud team now, or you can visit a branch in person with identification—"
"Transfer me," Marcus said.
The hold music started again.
Marcus pressed the phone harder against his ear.
Derek spoke quietly.
"You doing okay?"
"No," Marcus said.
"But I will be."
The fraud team picked up.
Marcus spent twenty minutes on the call — answering questions, confirming dates, spelling names.
The representative's voice was professional and unhurried.
She told him a case number.
She told him the account redirection had been flagged as suspicious by their system eighteen months ago but had not been escalated because the login credentials matched.
She told him the credit line — the one he hadn't known about — had been opened using a combination of his personal details and a digital signature.
"Can you freeze it?" Marcus said.
"Already done," she said.
"As of this call."
He ended the call and stood quietly for a moment.
"The credit line is frozen," he said.
Derek nodded.
"She used my login," Marcus said.
"She had access to my laptop.
She had access to everything." He sat down on the bench beside Derek.
"I gave her all of it.
I trusted her completely."
"I know," Derek said.
"I feel like an idiot."
"You're not an idiot," Derek said.
"You're a man who loved someone and trusted her.
That's not stupidity.
That's just — that's just being human."
Marcus looked at his hands.
"My daughter babysat for two months to buy a dress."
"I know."
"She's nine."
"I know, Marcus."
He sat with that for a moment.
Then he stood up.
The second call was to a lawyer he knew — a man named Gerald who had handled his business contracts for years.
Gerald answered on the third ring, heard the summary in four minutes, and said he would clear his Monday morning.
"This is fraud," Gerald said.
"Straightforward.
The forged signatures alone are enough.
If the sister cooperates, this moves fast."
"She'll cooperate," Marcus said.
"Then document everything tonight.
Don't move anything.
Don't delete anything.
And don't contact Vanessa directly."
"I won't."
"I'll call you Sunday evening to prepare for Monday."
Marcus ended the call.
He looked at Derek.
"I need to go back out there."
"Your guests," Derek said.
"My daughter," Marcus said.
He straightened his jacket.
He put his phone in his pocket.
He opened the door of the coat room and walked back down the hall toward the garden.
The afternoon light was still warm.
The floral arches were still standing.
The caterers had begun quietly serving food, and some guests had started to eat, speaking in low voices, the way people do when something large has happened and they are waiting to take their cue.
Maya was sitting at a table with Aunt Renee, eating a bread roll and swinging her feet.
She looked up when she saw her father walking toward her, and her face did something that Marcus felt in his chest like a physical weight lifting.
She scooted her chair over to make room for him.
He sat down beside her.
He didn't say anything.
He just put his arm around her and she leaned into him, still eating her bread roll, her feet still swinging.
Renee looked at Marcus across the table.
"What do you need?" she said quietly.
"Nothing right now," he said.
"Just this."
Renee nodded.
She refilled her water glass and said nothing more.
But Marcus's phone buzzed in his pocket.
He glanced at the screen.
It was a message from an unknown number.
*You should know there's more.
Call me.
— D*
He stared at it.
D.
Not Derek — Derek was sitting in the coat room.
D for Delia.
He looked at Maya, still leaning against his arm.
He looked at the bread roll in her hand, at her too-small shoes, at the dress she had worked two months to buy.
He typed back one word: *When?*
The reply came in seconds.
May you like
*Now.
Before she gets to me first.*
