Chapter 6 - The Lease AmendmentMonday morning, Simone sat in the office of attorney Danielle Brooks.
Danielle specialized in small-business disputes and fraud.
She wore navy, spoke calmly, and did not react dramatically when Simone described the wedding.
That helped.
“The affair is emotionally central,” Danielle said, “but legally I’m more interested in the documents.”
Simone nodded.
“I figured.”
“Did you sign the lease amendment?”
“I signed something.”
“Show me what you received.”
Simone opened her email.
Her version contained two pages.
Resident conduct rules.
Parking.
Authorized occupancy.
Danielle compared it with the five-page amendment from the resident portal.
“This is not the same document.”
Simone felt sick.
“My electronic signature appears on both.”
“Possibly copied or applied through the leasing platform.”
“Can we prove that?”
“Maybe through audit logs.”
“Is that criminal?”
Danielle raised one hand.
“Don’t get ahead of the evidence.”
Simone nodded.
Danielle continued.
“You should assume anything you say to Marcus may become evidence.”
“I’m not talking to him.”
“Good.”
“He keeps calling.”
“Preserve it.”
Simone slid over the financial statements.
Danielle studied the Reed Development transfers.
“What did you believe Reed Development was?”
“Marcus’s old real-estate company.”
“Did you authorize your business profile to send money there?”
“No.”
“Did you benefit from these corporate payments?”
“No.”
“Did any money ultimately enter your personal account?”
“Only legitimate invoices.”
Danielle nodded.
“That distinction matters.”
At Bennett Hospitality headquarters, Ashley sat across from corporate counsel Darius Cole and an external forensic accountant, Patrice Holloway.
The wedding dress was gone.
Ashley wore a black suit.
The ring finger on her left hand was bare.
Darius placed fourteen invoices on the table.
“Six are completely fabricated.”
Ashley stared.
“Eight?”
“Eight correspond to real events but were inflated.”
“How?”
“For example, Simone’s company invoiced $3,600. Bennett records show $8,900.”
“Who approved them?”
Darius did not need to answer.
Marcus’s employee credentials appeared beside each approval.
Ashley swallowed.
“What was his authorization limit?”
“Twenty-five thousand per vendor invoice.”
“And nobody questioned fourteen payments?”
Patrice spoke.
“He spread them across different properties and cost centers.”
Ashley closed her eyes.
Marcus knew the company.
He knew who reviewed what.
He had been director of strategic operations for four years.
Her father had liked him.
Evelyn trusted him enough to invite him into family meetings.
Ashley had loved him enough to marry him.
Patrice continued.
“The altered amounts appear to move through two destination accounts.”
“One is Reed Development.”
“Yes.”
“The other?”
“An account associated with a company called Northline Creative.”
Ashley frowned.
“Who owns it?”
“We’re working on that.”
Darius slid another document toward her.
“Now the apartment.”
Ashley read the audit trail.
She had signed the original lease.
The amendment adding Simone was created three days later.
Ashley's signature had been applied through a reused stored-signature token.
“What does that mean?”
“The platform allowed corporate administrators to reuse certain approved signatures on standardized amendments.”
Ashley stared.
“Marcus had administrator access.”
“Yes.”
“Did he technically forge me?”
Darius chose his words carefully.
“He applied your stored electronic signature to a document you say you did not authorize.”
Ashley looked away.
The distinction mattered legally.
Emotionally, it did not.
Patrice said, “The rent was coded as executive relocation.”
“For eighteen months?”
“Nine months so far.”
“And Simone paid Marcus personally sixteen hundred every month.”
“So she says.”
Ashley’s eyes sharpened.
“You doubt her?”
“I verify everyone.”
Ashley leaned back.
“Good.”
That afternoon Ashley met Simone at Danielle’s office.
Their lawyers were present.
So was Darius.
No one pretended the women were friends.
They were witnesses whose stories overlapped.
Danielle asked Ashley, “Did you know Ms. Carter occupied the apartment?”
“No.”
“Did you ever receive her sixteen-hundred-dollar payments?”
“No.”
“Did you authorize Marcus to collect them?”
“No.”
Darius asked Simone, “Did Marcus ever tell you Bennett Hospitality paid the full rent?”
“No.”
“Did he ever identify Ashley as his fiancée?”
“No.”
“Did he tell you the wedding cake was for his own wedding?”
Simone laughed once.
“No.”
They moved to payments.
Emails.
Passwords.
Timelines.
After nearly two hours, Darius laid out a preliminary chart.
Bennett Hospitality had lost at least $106,400 through the Carter vendor profile.
Simone had personally paid Marcus $14,400 in fake “rent contributions.”
Additional suspicious transactions through Northline Creative totaled $63,000.
Ashley stared at the chart.
“Nearly two hundred thousand.”
“Potentially,” Patrice said.
“Where did it go?”
“We’re tracing it.”
Simone whispered, “To his warehouse loan?”
“Some, perhaps.”
Darius pointed to another line.
“Twenty-eight thousand went somewhere else.”
“Where?”
“An escrow account.”
Ashley frowned.
“For what?”
Darius looked grim.
“A property purchase.”
Simone’s skin prickled.
“What property?”
Darius turned the file.
The address was familiar.
Too familiar.
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It was the building where Simone had recently signed a five-year lease for her new cake studio.
And Marcus’s company—not Simone—was listed as the pending buyer.
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