Chapter 7 - Jasmine’s Copy
Nia drove to Jasmine’s apartment with her mother ten minutes behind her.
She should not have driven angry.
She knew that.
But remaining still felt impossible.
Lauren Price answered the door.
She looked exhausted.
“Nia.”
“I need to see Jasmine.”
Lauren hesitated.
“She’s sick.”
“So am I.”
“Nia.”
“She photographed my father’s trust papers.”
Lauren’s expression changed.
“What?”
“Ask her.”
Lauren opened the door wider.
Jasmine appeared from the hallway.
She had heard everything.
“Nia.”
“You photographed the documents.”
Jasmine’s face crumpled.
Lauren looked at her daughter.
“Is that true?”
Jasmine whispered, “Yes.”
Lauren leaned against the wall.
“Why?”
Jasmine looked at Nia.
“I can explain.”
Nia laughed.
“That sentence should be illegal at this point.”
Ms. Bennett arrived behind her.
Lauren looked ashamed.
“Monica, I didn’t know.”
Ms. Bennett said nothing.
She rarely used silence cruelly.
Today she did.
Jasmine led them into the living room.
“Malik asked me to.”
Nia remained standing.
“You told me you only photographed the cabinet.”
“I lied.”
“Why?”
“I knew you’d hate me.”
“That concern came late.”
Jasmine wiped her eyes.
“He told me the documents would prove whether the trust could pay for business expenses.”
“And that sounded normal?”
“No.”
“But you did it.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
Jasmine’s voice trembled.
“The night before your eighteenth birthday dinner.”
Nia remembered Jasmine staying over.
They had been wrapping gifts for the party.
Nia had fallen asleep first.
“You went into my mother’s office.”
“Yes.”
“You opened her filing cabinet.”
“The key was in the kitchen drawer.”
Ms. Bennett closed her eyes.
Jasmine continued.
“I took pictures.”
“All of it?”
“Seven pages.”
Nia’s stomach turned.
“Where are they?”
“I deleted them.”
“From your phone?”
“Yes.”
“Cloud?”
Jasmine hesitated.
“I don’t know.”
Lauren snapped, “Give her the phone.”
“Mom—”
“Now.”
Jasmine handed it over.
Nia did not search it.
She handed it to her mother.
“I’m not doing this myself.”
Ms. Bennett nodded.
“We’ll let Mr. Greene or an investigator advise us.”
Jasmine paled.
“Investigator?”
“You accessed confidential financial documents,” Ms. Bennett said. “Malik impersonated my daughter and tampered with her college account.”
Lauren stood.
“Monica, these are kids.”
“Malik is nineteen.”
“They made horrible decisions.”
“My daughter nearly lost university housing and possibly her scholarship.”
“I understand.”
“No, Lauren. You understand that your daughter is pregnant. I understand someone has been attempting to redirect Nia’s future and gain access to seventy-two thousand dollars left by her dead father.”
The room became silent.
Lauren looked at Jasmine.
“Is there anything else?”
Jasmine began shaking.
Nia noticed.
“There is.”
“No.”
“Jasmine.”
“No.”
“You always look down before you lie.”
Jasmine closed her eyes.
Nia almost hated herself for remembering that childhood habit.
Almost.
“What else did you give him?”
Jasmine whispered, “Your Social Security number.”
Ms. Bennett moved first.
“What?”
Lauren gasped.
Jasmine began sobbing.
“It was on one of the pages.”
“You sent it?”
“I sent pictures of everything.”
Nia felt the room tilt.
Her mother caught her arm.
Jasmine continued frantically.
“I didn’t understand what was on them at first.”
“You’re eighteen,” Nia said.
“I know.”
“Stop talking like you’re twelve.”
“I know!”
“Did Malik use it?”
“I don’t know.”
“You better pray he didn’t.”
Lauren said, “We need to freeze your credit.”
Ms. Bennett was already reaching for her phone.
They contacted all three major credit bureaus.
Nia created a fraud alert.
Then she checked her credit report.
At first nothing unusual appeared.
No new credit cards.
No loans.
No collection accounts.
She almost exhaled.
Then she noticed an inquiry from two months earlier.
Southeastern Community Bank.
Business lending division.
Nia stared at it.
“I never applied for business credit.”
Ms. Bennett leaned over.
Lauren went pale.
Jasmine covered her mouth.
Nia looked at her.
“Tell me you don’t know.”
Jasmine shook her head.
But Nia saw recognition.
“What?”
Jasmine whispered, “Malik asked me once if you had good credit.”
Nia’s voice hardened.
“And what did you say?”
“That you probably did.”
“Why?”
“He said young people with clean credit could qualify for better rates with a cosigner.”
Nia looked back at the report.
There had been an inquiry.
Someone had tested whether Nia Bennett could become financially useful.
Her phone rang.
Unknown number.
She almost ignored it.
Then answered.
“Hello?”
A man spoke.
“Is this Nia Bennett?”
“Yes.”
“This is Daniel Ruiz with Southeastern Community Bank’s fraud department. We received your online inquiry regarding a disputed business credit application.”
Nia frowned.
“I haven’t contacted you yet.”
The man paused.
“That’s concerning.”
“Why?”
“Because someone contacted us this morning claiming to be you.”
Nia’s blood went cold.
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“What did they want?”
“To withdraw the application before you could see it.”
