Chapter 4: The Man Behind the Transfers
I read the name on the screen three times before I trusted my eyes.
*Derrick Coleman.*
I had never heard Tasha mention a Derrick Coleman. Not once in the eight months we'd been engaged.
The account ending in 4419 had received seven transfers from our wedding savings, totaling $18,600. The largest was the $8,750 payment from two days earlier.
And beneath that transaction sat the reference Tasha had entered herself.
For the life we planned.
I took a screenshot.
Then I opened the next transfer.
Another payment to Derrick. Another reference. This one said, Deposit, as discussed.
My mouth went dry.
I wanted to storm into the bedroom and demand an explanation. I wanted to wake Tasha up, put the screen in front of her face, and make her tell me why our wedding money was going to a man I'd never met.
But Mama's voice returned to me.
Look at the facts first.
So I kept digging.
The banking website showed that the recipient had been added six weeks earlier. The first transfer had been $1,200. After that came payments of $2,400, $1,750, $3,100, and several smaller amounts.
The money had gone out in deliberate increments.
This wasn't one mistake.
Someone had been planning this.
At 2:04 a.m., I called the bank's customer service number. After navigating three automated menus, I reached a representative named Angela.
"Thank you for calling, sir. How may I help you tonight?""
"I need to report unauthorized transfers from a joint savings account.""
"Are you a joint account holder?""
"Yes. My name is Marcus Reed.""
"All right, Mr. Reed. Can you tell me why you believe the transactions were unauthorized?""
I glanced toward the bedroom.
"My fiancée transferred money from our wedding account without my knowledge or consent. I need to understand my options.""
Angela paused while typing.
"Did you authorize her to access the account?""
"Yes. We opened it together.""
"Then I want to be careful about promising you that these transfers qualify as unauthorized. Joint-account permissions can affect how a bank handles a dispute. I can help you document the transactions and explain the available account-security options.""
I rubbed my forehead.
"Can you tell me who received the money?""
"I can read the recipient information associated with the transfers, but I can't tell you anything beyond what's recorded on your account.""
"Please.""
She confirmed Derrick Coleman's name and the account ending in 4419.
Then she asked whether I wanted to request a formal review.
"Yes," I said.
"And I want to know how to stop any more money from leaving.""
She explained the steps available to me and warned that the bank might not be able to reverse completed transfers simply because the other account holder had failed to obtain my agreement.
When the call ended, I sat staring at the computer.
The bank hadn't solved anything.
But I had a case number, a record of my complaint, and a clearer understanding of how much work it might take to recover the money.
I printed the transaction history.
Then I heard a floorboard creak behind me.
Tasha stood in the doorway.
She had changed into a silk robe. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, and her eyes moved immediately to the papers coming out of the printer.
"Who were you talking to?""
"The bank.""
Her face tightened.
"Why?""
"Because our savings are disappearing.""
"They're not disappearing. I told you I was going to replace the money.""
"With what?""
"My business income.""
"When?""
She folded her arms.
"Why are you interrogating me like this?""
"Because I found Derrick Coleman.""
The change in her face was immediate.
Her shoulders stiffened. Her lips parted slightly, but no sound came out.
I had expected denial.
I had expected anger.
I hadn't expected recognition.
"Who is he?"" I asked.
Tasha looked toward the hallway.
"Where did you see that name?""
"On our bank statement.""
"Marcus, you shouldn't be going through my private business transactions.""
I laughed in disbelief.
"Our wedding savings aren't your private business transactions.""
"You don't understand the situation.""
"Then explain it.""
She stepped into the office and shut the door.
"Derrick is a business contact.""
"Then why did you send him eighteen thousand six hundred dollars?""
"He was helping me secure an opportunity.""
"What opportunity?""
"A major event contract.""
"Where?""
She hesitated.
"Downtown.""
"With whom?""
"Marcus, I don't have to give you the name of every client I work with.""
"No, but you do have to explain why you took our wedding money and sent it to a man I've never met.""
Her expression hardened.
"You're acting like I robbed a stranger. I'm your fiancée.""
"That doesn't make the money yours alone.""
She looked at the papers on the desk.
For a moment, I thought she might finally tell me the truth.
Instead, she reached for the printed statement.
I pulled it away.
"Don't.""
Her eyes flashed.
"Excuse me?""
"Those are records of our account. I'm keeping them.""
She stared at me, then let out a bitter laugh.
"Fine. Keep your little papers. But when my business takes off and I pay everything back, I don't want to hear another word about this.""
I studied her face.
"Did you buy the dress with that money?""
"No.""
"Then show me the receipt.""
She said nothing.
"Show me the receipt, Tasha.""
"I don't have it on me.""
"Where is it?""
"I don't know!""
Her voice cracked, and she turned away.
I lowered my voice.
"Did you even pay twenty thousand dollars for that dress?""
She spun back toward me.
"Of course I did!""
"Then where's the receipt?""
"Stop asking me the same questions!""
She opened the door and stormed into the hallway.
I followed her as far as the bedroom.
"Tasha, we have a wedding in six weeks. We have vendors waiting for payments. We have plans.""
She turned around so abruptly that I nearly walked into her.
"You want the truth? Fine! Sometimes you have to take risks to build a future. You wouldn't understand that because you're comfortable making the same paycheck every week.""
I felt the insult land, but I didn't respond.
She continued.
"You go to work, you come home, you look at numbers, and you think that's a life. I am trying to create something bigger.""
"With our savings?""
"With an investment!""
"In Derrick?""
Her expression changed again.
This time, there was something close to fear in her eyes.
"Don't say his name like that.""
"Why?""
"Because you don't know him.""
"Neither do you, apparently, if this is such a good investment.""
She slapped her palm against the wall.
"Enough!""
The sound echoed through the bedroom.
Then she took a breath and lowered her voice.
"Marcus, I love you. You know I love you. Everything I've done has been about building a future for us.""
I looked at her for a long time.
"Then tell me why your payment reference says, 'For the life we planned.''"
She went completely still.
I watched the color drain from her face.
And in that silence, I understood something I hadn't understood before.
The money wasn't the only thing she was hiding.
I just didn't know yet whether Derrick was a client, a lover, or someone who had promised her something she believed was worth risking our entire future.
Tasha walked into the bathroom and shut the door.
A few seconds later, I heard the shower turn on.
I returned to the office, gathered the printed statements, and placed them inside a folder.
Then my phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
May you like
The message contained only one sentence.
*Marcus, my name is Danielle Brooks. Your mother told me you might be looking into the money. We need to talk before Tasha realizes I contacted you.*
