My furniture suddenly felt insignificant.
Rachel started digging.
Two days later, she called me into her office.
Her face was unusually serious.
“The lease is only part of this.”
She slid several documents toward me.
There was an application for a personal credit line.
$65,000.
My name appeared as guarantor.
Another fake signature.
Then a credit-card application.
Then paperwork for a small business.
The business was called K&M Property Solutions.
K for Karen.
M for Mia.
“What is this?”
Rachel turned one page around.
Bank transfers.
Large ones.
Money moving from an unfamiliar account into the company.
“This account belongs to your father.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“Karen has been transferring money from a joint account she shares with him.”
“How much?”
Rachel hesitated.
“Based on what we can currently see?”
She pointed to a number.
$184,000.
I stopped breathing.
Dad cried when I told him.
I had never seen my father cry.
