Chapter 4 - THE WOMAN WHO KNEW TOO MUCHI called Natalie Brooks at 8:10 the following morning.
She didn't answer.
Five minutes later, she sent a message.
Please don't call. I can't talk while my husband is home.
I stared at the screen, confused.
Then another message appeared.
Can we meet somewhere public at noon?
I forwarded the exchange to Patricia.
She responded almost immediately.
Do not discuss the case in detail without counsel. I can attend, and we can meet in a conference room at my office.
Natalie agreed.
At eleven fifty-seven, a young woman with dark hair and frightened eyes walked through Patricia's office door.
She looked about thirty.
She wore a gray cardigan, black slacks, and carried a large handbag pressed tightly against her side.
"Mr. Higgins?"
I stood.
"Yes."
She glanced at Patricia.
"You're his lawyer?"
Patricia nodded.
"That's right. You can tell us what you know, but I need to make clear that I represent Mr. Higgins, not you. If you believe you're personally exposed to criminal liability, you may want independent legal advice."
Natalie swallowed.
"I understand."
She sat at the conference table.
For several seconds, she said nothing.
Then she opened her handbag and removed a small notebook.
"I worked as office manager for Higgins Property Solutions for twenty-two months."
I nodded.
"Logan mentioned you."
"Did he mention why I left?"
"No."
Her mouth twisted.
"Of course he didn't."
Patricia leaned forward.
"Start wherever you're comfortable."
Natalie took a breath.
"Last year, the company began falling behind on payments to subcontractors. At first, Logan said it was temporary. He told us two major customers were late paying invoices."
"Was that true?" Patricia asked.
"Partly. But the bigger problem was that the company kept using borrowed money to cover expenses that had nothing to do with the business."
"What expenses?"
Natalie opened the notebook.
"Travel. Restaurants. Chelsea's vehicle payments. A country club membership. Home renovations."
I looked at her.
"Home renovations?"
"Yes, sir."
My stomach tightened.
Six months earlier, Chelsea had remodeled the upstairs bathroom.
She told everyone her parents had paid for it.
The project cost almost $38,000.
"Logan approved those expenses?" I asked.
Natalie looked uncomfortable.
"Sometimes. Other times, Chelsea used the company credit card directly."
Patricia began taking notes.
"Did Chelsea have an official role?"
"She was listed as administrative director, but she rarely came into the office."
"What authority did she have over financial accounts?"
"More than she should have."
Natalie hesitated.
"She controlled the online bookkeeping system for a while. Logan said it was easier because she worked from home."
I felt a dull ache behind my eyes.
For years, I had encouraged Logan to keep business and household finances separate.
He always assured me he understood.
Apparently, he had understood nothing.
Natalie continued.
"By November, vendors were calling constantly. We had checks returned. Two employees left because their pay was late."
"Did Logan know?" Patricia asked.
"Yes."
"And Chelsea?"
"She knew everything."
Natalie looked directly at me.
"Mr. Higgins, I heard them fighting about you."
My chest tightened.
"What did they say?"
She lowered her eyes.
"Chelsea said you had plenty of money hidden away."
I froze.
"How would she know that?"
"She told Logan she'd seen one of your investment statements."
I remembered the documents Chelsea had moved into the garage.
An old brokerage statement from the previous year.
It would have shown only part of my assets.
Natalie continued.
"Logan told her to leave your retirement money alone."
For one fleeting second, I felt relief.
Then Natalie said something that destroyed it.
"She told him that as long as you were living in their house, they'd always have access to you."
I felt sick.
"Access to me?"
Natalie nodded.
"She said you were lonely after your wife died and would do anything to keep the family together."
The conference room seemed to shrink.
Patricia watched me carefully.
"Would you like a moment?"
I shook my head.
"No. Please continue."
Natalie opened her notebook to a page marked with a red tab.
"In January, the lender required additional guarantees before expanding the company's credit facility."
"Did Logan contact me?" I asked.
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because Chelsea told him you'd refuse."
I looked down.
Of course I would have refused.
I had warned Logan against increasing business debt at least three times.
"What happened next?"
Natalie took a long breath.
"Chelsea asked me to prepare a new email account with your name."
Patricia's pen stopped moving.
"Did you do it?"
Natalie nodded miserably.
"Yes."
"Did you know what it would be used for?"
"At first, she said it was because you were having trouble receiving business emails. She told me Logan had your permission."
"And then?"
"She asked me to upload identification documents into the lender's portal."
My skin went cold.
"Where did those documents come from?"
"Scanned copies from a folder in the office."
I shook my head.
"I never gave Logan permission to keep my identification documents there."
Natalie looked close to tears.
"Mr. Higgins, I know."
Patricia spoke carefully.
"Did you personally execute the electronic signature?"
"No."
"Did you witness who did?"
Natalie hesitated.
Then she nodded.
"Chelsea."
I stared at her.
"You're certain?"
"I was sitting beside her when she clicked the final confirmation."
The room fell silent.
Natalie wiped her face.
"She said you had already approved everything verbally."
Patricia leaned forward.
"Did Logan know the documents had been submitted?"
"Yes."
The word hit me like a physical blow.
Natalie continued quickly.
"He wasn't there when Chelsea completed the signature, but he knew afterward. I heard them arguing about it."
"What did Logan say?" I asked.
Her eyes filled with tears.
"He told Chelsea she'd crossed a line."
I held my breath.
"Then what?"
"She told him the company would collapse if the bank withdrew the money."
"And Logan?"
"He said he would figure out how to explain it to you later."
I looked toward the window.
Outside, sunlight reflected off the glass buildings of downtown Dallas.
Somewhere, people were going to lunch, discussing weekend plans, living ordinary lives.
My own son had knowingly allowed someone to use my identity to obtain hundreds of thousands of dollars.
Not because he hated me.
Not because he wanted to hurt me.
But because he had convinced himself that saving his business justified betraying his father.
That might have been the most painful part.
Natalie pushed the notebook toward Patricia.
"I kept records."
Patricia looked up.
"What kind?"
"Dates. Account transfers. Copies of emails. Payment requests."
"Why?"
"Because I started getting scared."
Natalie reached into her bag and removed a flash drive.
"After the loan expansion, Chelsea began transferring money to an outside company."
"What company?" Patricia asked.
"Westbridge Consulting Group."
I frowned.
"I've never heard of it."
Natalie's expression changed.
"That's because it isn't really a consulting company."
Patricia looked at her sharply.
"What is it?"
"It's a business registered to Chelsea's brother, Brandon."
I had met Brandon on several occasions.
He was thirty-four, charming, unemployed more often than not, and constantly talking about investment opportunities that never seemed to materialize.
Last Christmas, Chelsea had told us Brandon was starting a successful software consulting business.
Apparently, she hadn't mentioned where the money came from.
"How much went to Westbridge?" Patricia asked.
Natalie looked at her notes.
"At least $172,000 that I could identify."
My mouth went dry.
One hundred seventy-two thousand dollars.
Transferred from a struggling company to a business controlled by Chelsea's brother.
Patricia was silent for a moment.
Then she asked, "Were these transfers supported by legitimate invoices?"
"Some had invoices. But I couldn't find evidence that services had been performed."
Natalie looked at me.
"I started asking questions."
"What happened?"
"Chelsea told me I was being disloyal."
She swallowed.
"Then she said if I kept looking into it, she'd make sure nobody in Dallas ever hired me again."
Patricia asked whether Natalie had copies of that communication.
She did.
Chelsea had sent the threat through a company messaging account.
Natalie opened her phone and showed us.
Patricia carefully documented the evidence.
I sat back in my chair.
For the first time, I began to see the entire situation differently.
Chelsea hadn't simply humiliated me at a dinner party.
She had spent months treating me as an obstacle, a resource, and eventually a liability.
And when she believed I was no longer useful?
She wanted me gone.
But one question remained.
"Why would Chelsea force me out if she thought I still had money?"
Natalie looked at me.
"I wondered that too."
She opened her notebook to another page.
"Three weeks before the dinner party, she had a meeting with someone named Victor Hale."
Patricia raised an eyebrow.
"Who is Victor Hale?"
Natalie's voice dropped.
"A private lender. At least, that's what Chelsea called him."
"What did they discuss?"
"I only heard part of the conversation."
She looked directly at me.
"Chelsea said that once you were out of the house, it would be easier to convince Logan to refinance the property."
I shook my head.
"Why would my presence matter?"
Natalie hesitated.
"Because she was planning to use the money to pay her brother's debts."
A long silence followed.
Then Patricia asked the question I hadn't thought to ask.
"How much does Brandon owe?"
Natalie looked down at her notebook.
"According to what I overheard?"
She paused.
"More than three hundred thousand dollars."
I sat back, stunned.
The money that had supposedly saved Logan's business hadn't saved it at all.
It had been diverted.
And now Chelsea was preparing to gamble their house to cover her brother's mistakes.
Patricia thanked Natalie and explained how her evidence could be preserved and verified.
Before leaving, Natalie turned to me.
"Mr. Higgins, I'm sorry."
I studied her.
"For what?"
"For not telling you sooner."
She lowered her head.
"I kept thinking somebody else would stop it."
I thought about Logan sitting silently at that dinner table.
I thought about myself, ignoring Margaret's warnings.
And I said the only thing I could.
"Sometimes the hardest part of doing the right thing is admitting you waited too long."
Natalie nodded, wiping her eyes.
After she left, Patricia remained silent for several minutes.
Then she looked at me.
"Albert, this is considerably more serious than we initially believed."
"I know."
"We need to involve the lender's fraud department and preserve all available evidence. There may also be grounds for a criminal referral."
I looked at the flash drive sitting on the table.
"Will I lose my retirement money?"
"We're going to do everything legally available to protect it."
I nodded.
Then Patricia opened an email that had arrived during our meeting.
It was from the bank.
Her expression tightened as she read.
"Albert."
Something in her voice made me straighten.
"What?"
"The bank has identified additional collateral documents connected to the amended credit facility."
"What collateral?"
She read the message again.
Then slowly looked at me.
"Your son apparently submitted paperwork listing a property interest as security."
I frowned.
"What property?"
"The house."
Logan and Chelsea's house.
And although the exact nature of the claimed security interest still needed to be verified, one thing was suddenly clear.
They hadn't merely borrowed against their business.
May you like
They had put their home at risk.
The same home from which they had thrown me out.
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