Chapter 15 - Loretta’s Hand
Loretta denied it for twelve minutes.
Then Malcolm showed her the device log.
Her resistance collapsed.
“Yes,” she said.
The four of them sat in the dining room again.
“I moved the money.”
Tasha’s fingers tightened around her notebook.
“You transferred seventy-five hundred dollars from Malcolm’s business account without telling him.”
Loretta stared back.
“He had already committed the funds.”
“I committed nine,” Malcolm said.
“You said you were helping.”
“That does not mean unlimited access.”
Loretta’s eyes flashed.
“You gave me the password.”
“For the first transfer.”
“So now you’re accusing your mother of stealing?”
Malcolm flinched.
Tasha saw it.
The familiar trap.
Define the action accurately, then punish the person for naming it.
Malcolm took a breath.
“You transferred money without permission.”
Loretta looked wounded.
“Yes.”
“Then I’m describing what happened.”
Her face hardened.
“You sound like her.”
Tasha almost smiled.
Malcolm did not.
“Good.”
Loretta stared.
He continued.
“She’s been right about permission this whole time.”
For a moment Loretta had no answer.
Then she turned toward Tasha.
“You are enjoying this.”
Tasha’s exhaustion transformed into disbelief.
“You think I enjoy discovering how many people had access to money attached to my name?”
“You’ve always thought you were better than this family.”
Malcolm stood.
“Stop.”
“No. She walks around with that office badge like she’s the only responsible person in America.”
Tasha instinctively touched the badge hanging from her neck.
Loretta continued.
“She counts every dollar. Every favor. Every mistake.”
“Because dollars keep disappearing,” Kendra said.
Loretta ignored her.
“You married a man with ambition, Tasha. You can’t punish him because he doesn’t want to live check to check forever.”
Tasha stood too.
“I have never punished Malcolm for dreaming.”
Her voice shook.
“I am angry because he made me finance dreams I did not agree to.”
Loretta rolled her eyes.
“You would have said no.”
“Yes.”
“That is exactly my point.”
Tasha stared.
Then she laughed.
Quietly.
“Thank you.”
Loretta frowned.
“For what?”
“For finally saying it plainly.”
Tasha picked up her purse.
“You all believe my no was the problem.”
She looked at Malcolm.
He lowered his eyes.
“Not the forged authorization.”
At Loretta.
“Not the unauthorized transfer.”
At the table covered in paper.
“My no.”
She walked toward the door.
Loretta called after her.
“You walk out now, don’t expect this family to beg you back.”
Tasha turned.
“I’m not leaving a family.”
She looked at Malcolm.
“I’m leaving a system.”
Outside, Malcolm followed.
“Tasha.”
She stopped near Kendra’s car.
“I gave my attorney the lender documents today.”
Malcolm’s face tightened.
“I know.”
“I’m disputing the loan.”
He nodded.
“And I’m filing a formal identity-theft report.”
His eyes closed.
Kendra looked away.
Tasha watched him carefully.
She expected anger.
Fear.
Accusations.
Instead Malcolm whispered, “Okay.”
That answer nearly broke her.
“Okay?”
“I did it.”
His voice trembled.
“If you lie to protect me, then I’m doing to you again what Mom does to me.”
Tasha’s eyes filled.
Malcolm continued.
“I’ll tell them the truth.”
“You understand there could be consequences.”
“Yes.”
“You could be investigated.”
“Yes.”
“You may need your own attorney.”
“I know.”
Tasha nodded slowly.
For one second they were simply two people standing beneath a porch light, mourning a marriage that had not technically ended.
Malcolm reached into his jacket.
“I sold the gaming monitor.”
Tasha frowned.
“And six pairs of shoes.”
He handed her an envelope.
Inside was $2,400.
“What is this?”
“For rent.”
She stared.
“I’m not asking you to forgive anything.”
“Where did this come from exactly?”
He smiled sadly.
“You really don’t trust me.”
“No.”
He nodded.
“Fair.”
He showed her sales receipts.
Tasha inspected them.
Then took the envelope.
Not as reconciliation.
As rent.
“You still owe Kendra.”
“I know.”
“And the lender.”
“I know.”
“And me.”
His face changed.
“I know.”
Tasha got into the car.
As Kendra drove away, she looked back.
Malcolm remained standing under the porch light.
For once, he was not asking anyone to rescue him.
The next day Tasha filed the identity-theft report.
She supplied the forged authorization letter, lender application, emails, and account records.
The fraud investigator asked one question that stayed with her.
“Do you believe your husband acted alone?”
Tasha thought of Loretta’s tablet.
Devon’s texts.
The fake email account.
“No,” she said.
“I don’t.”
Two days later, the refinance was suspended pending review of source-of-funds documentation.
Loretta called Tasha seventeen times.
Tasha did not answer.
Then a certified letter arrived at Kendra’s townhouse.
It was from an attorney representing Reed Property Holdings.
Inside was a demand that Tasha stop “interfering with a lawful family real-estate transaction.”
Kendra read the letter twice.
Then laughed.
“What?”
Kendra looked at her.
“They’re scared.”
Tasha took the paper.
At the bottom was a list of alleged damages if the refinance failed.
One number stood out.
$48,000.
Tasha frowned.
“What is that?”
Kendra reread the paragraph.
Then her expression changed.
“Apparently RPH signed a contract agreeing to sell the downstairs unit’s future rental income to an investor.”
Tasha stared.
“You can sell future rent?”
“In different forms, yes.”
“So if the refinance fails—”
“They may owe somebody forty-eight thousand dollars.”
Tasha looked toward the ceiling.
The house had never been merely sentimental.
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Someone had built an entire financial machine around it.
And Malcolm’s stolen money had been fuel.
