Chapter 4 - The Account With Malik’s Name
The account had contained $27,400.
Tasha had opened it when Malik was eight.
Birthday checks.
Christmas money.
A portion of child-support payments from Malik’s biological father before he moved overseas.
Monthly transfers from Tasha.
Five thousand dollars from Raymond Brooks’s estate.
It was not technically a college trust.
It was a joint savings account Tasha intended for Malik’s future.
At sixteen, Malik had never known the balance.
He only knew his mother sometimes said, “You have a start.”
Now there was $612 left.
Malik sat motionless in Simone’s conference room.
“When?”
Tasha placed her banking app on the table.
“The transfers started eleven months ago.”
“Transfers to where?”
“An account I didn’t recognize.”
“You didn’t notice?”
“I stopped getting paper statements years ago. Darren handled our household budget.”
Malik laughed once.
There was no humor in it.
“Of course he did.”
Tasha looked wounded.
He hated seeing that.
He also hated how quickly everyone expected him to understand.
“You gave him access?”
“It was a joint household login. The savings account was visible.”
“And he just moved my money?”
“I’m still finding out.”
Simone interrupted gently.
“Malik, I know you’re angry.”
“He stole from me.”
“If Darren transferred money without authorization, there may be legal remedies. But we need records before we characterize each transaction.”
Malik looked at her.
“You’re a lawyer.”
“Yes.”
“So you say everything carefully.”
“Yes.”
“Fine. I’m not a lawyer.”
He turned to his mother.
“He took it.”
Tasha’s eyes filled.
“I’m sorry.”
“I saved three months for a necklace while he took twenty-seven thousand dollars.”
“Malik—”
“I was worried about spending one hundred eighty-nine dollars!”
That number hit Tasha harder than she expected.
The necklace had cost $189.
Malik had worked thirty-seven after-school shifts to afford it while paying for his own lunches and bus fare.
Darren had called it cheap.
Tasha covered her mouth.
Malik stood.
“I need air.”
Simone’s office sat on the third floor of a professional building. Malik walked into the hallway and leaned against the wall.
Tasha followed but stopped several feet away.
“I should have known.”
“Yes,” he said.
She absorbed it.
“I should have.”
He looked at her.
“I wanted you to argue.”
“What?”
“All those times he said something messed up, I wanted you to argue.”
Tasha’s face crumpled.
“I know.”
“But you would tell me to let it go.”
“I know.”
“And I thought maybe you agreed with him.”
“I never did.”
“It felt like you did.”
Tasha nodded slowly.
“That matters.”
Malik’s anger softened only slightly.
“Why did you stay?”
The question was simple.
The answer was not.
Tasha looked through the hallway window at the parking lot below.
“Because it didn’t start with shoving.”
Malik stayed quiet.
“It started with opinions. What I should wear to meetings. Which friends were jealous. Whether your grandmother respected our marriage. Then it became passwords because married people shouldn’t have secrets.”
She swallowed.
“Then every disagreement became proof that I didn’t appreciate him.”
“So you just let him run everything?”
“No.”
Her voice broke.
“Not at first.”
Tasha described years Malik had only partially witnessed.
Darren criticizing purchases.
Darren reading texts.
Darren deciding which vendors were trustworthy.
Darren accusing Tasha of undermining him if she changed a business decision.
Darren punching a pantry door eighteen months earlier after she questioned a missing invoice.
“He hit the door?”
“Yes.”
“You told me the handle broke.”
“I lied.”
Malik looked away.
“I thought lying kept you from being afraid.”
“It just made me think I was imagining things.”
That sentence devastated her.
“I’m sorry.”
They stood quietly.
Eventually Malik asked, “When did you start planning to leave?”
“Six weeks ago.”
“The accountant?”
“Yes.”
“What happened six weeks ago?”
Tasha reached into her purse.
She removed a folded bank notice.
“A payment bounced.”
“Company?”
“No.”
She handed it to him.
The notice concerned Malik’s savings account.
Tasha had scheduled a five-hundred-dollar transfer into it for his birthday.
The bank rejected the transfer because the account had recently been reduced below a minimum balance after multiple withdrawals.
“That’s how you found out?”
“Yes.”
“You found out because you tried adding money?”
“Yes.”
Malik’s anger changed shape.
“So he’s the reason you hired Elena.”
“He’s part of the reason.”
“What’s the other part?”
Before Tasha could answer, Simone opened the office door.
“Elena is here.”
The forensic accountant entered carrying a laptop and a thick binder.
She greeted Malik, then placed a chart on the table.
“I’ve traced eleven payments totaling $184,620.”
“To Uncle Leon?” Malik asked.
“Mostly.”
Elena pointed.
“LMC Renovation received ninety-six thousand eight hundred. North Vale Consulting received fifty-two thousand. Cole Strategic Partners received the rest.”
“Who owns the other companies?”
“That is where it gets interesting.”
She rotated her laptop.
“North Vale was dissolved two years ago.”
Tasha frowned.
“Then how was it receiving money?”
“The bank account remained open.”
“Whose?”
Elena clicked.
A scanned signature card appeared.
Account holders:
Darren Cole.
Leon Cole.
Malik leaned forward.
“Both of them?”
“Yes.”
Elena switched documents.
“Cole Strategic Partners is different. It was formed seven months ago in Delaware.”
“Owner?”
“Hidden behind a registered agent.”
“Can you find out?”
“I already did.”
Elena looked at Tasha.
The room became very quiet.
“The beneficial-owner certification provided to the bank lists you.”
Tasha stared.
“Me?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve never heard of that company.”
“That’s why I brought the next document.”
Elena placed a photocopy on the table.
It was a business-formation authorization.
Tasha’s name appeared at the bottom.
Her signature.
Again.
Malik whispered, “That’s fake too?”
Tasha studied it.
Her face slowly changed.
“No.”
Simone looked at her.
“You signed this?”
“I signed something.”
“When?”
“Last December.”
“What did Darren tell you it was?”
Tasha’s eyes stayed on the page.
“A vendor-renewal package.”
Elena turned to the second page.
“Then you need to see what was underneath your signature sheet.”
Tasha read the paragraph.
Malik watched the blood drain from her face.
“What?”
She looked at him.
“I didn’t sign away the house.”
“No,” Elena said.
“This is worse for the company.”
She pointed to a clause authorizing Darren to act as managing member of an entity whose stated purpose was acquiring Brooks Heritage assets.
Malik stared at his stepfather’s name.
Tasha whispered, “He wasn’t just taking money.”
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Simone nodded.
“He was positioning himself to take control.”
