Chapter 7: The Account He Hid From His Wife
“Your mother has access to what account?””
Camille stood across the kitchen island, staring at Derrick as though she had never seen him before.
He pulled out a chair but didn't sit. His fingers worried the edge of the slate-blue blazer he'd worn to dinner, and his eyes kept drifting toward the front door.
“It's a business account,” he said.
“It was supposed to be temporary.””
“Temporary for how long?””
“Camille, please. Let me explain everything before you decide what it means.””
“You've had all evening to explain. You've had years to explain. Start talking.””
Derrick finally sat down.
Three years earlier, when his consulting business had been close to collapse, he had approached Camille with a proposal. He wanted to expand into commercial property management, a lucrative opportunity that required substantial upfront capital. Camille had agreed to lend him money from her personal savings, provided they documented the arrangement and kept their household finances separate from his company's operations.
She had trusted him because he had been transparent then.
Or so she had believed.
“The business account was opened when Mom offered to help me manage some payments,” Derrick began.
“She had experience handling the bookkeeping for my uncle's construction company.””
Camille frowned.
“Your mother worked in bookkeeping?””
“For a few years. She said she could help me organize things while I got the new contracts running.””
“And you gave her access to an account funded by my loan?””
“Not at first.””
“Derrick.””
He looked down.
“Eventually, yes.””
Camille pulled out the chair opposite him.
“How much money went into that account?””
“I don't know the exact amount.””
Her expression hardened.
“You don't know how much money is in an account you gave your mother access to?””
“I know the business expenses. I just haven't reconciled everything recently.””
“Then what exactly have you been doing?””
“Working! Trying to keep the company alive!””
His voice rose, then dropped when he saw her face.
“I'm sorry,” he added.
“I didn't mean to shout.””
Camille folded her hands on the counter.
“Did you use the money I lent you for the business?””
“Yes.””
“Did you authorize your mother to withdraw any of it?””
Derrick hesitated.
“Some payments went through that account.””
“That wasn't my question.””
He rubbed his forehead.
“I didn't personally authorize every transaction.””
The silence that followed felt enormous.
Camille stood and walked to the living room window. Atlanta's evening lights glimmered beyond the glass, but she barely noticed them.
She had spent years believing that Derrick's financial struggles were temporary setbacks. She had defended his ambition when relatives called him irresponsible. She had celebrated every new contract and reassured him whenever a client paid late.
Meanwhile, his mother had apparently been given access to money Camille had earned through years of careful saving.
“Show me the account,” she said.
Derrick looked alarmed.
“It's late.””
“Then show me tomorrow.””
“Camille, the records are messy.””
“That's unfortunate. Show me anyway.””
He picked up his phone, opened an application, and turned the screen toward her.
The account balance was lower than she expected.
Camille stared at the transactions.
Payments to suppliers. Office expenses. A transfer to a company she didn't recognize. Several withdrawals labeled with initials.
Then she noticed a payment made two months earlier.
*PATRICIA W. — $18,500.00*
Camille pointed at the screen.
“What is this?””
Derrick's mouth tightened.
“Mom said she needed the money temporarily.””
“For what?””
“She had some expenses.””
“Eighteen thousand five hundred dollars in expenses?””
“I don't know all the details.””
Camille pushed the phone back toward him.
“Did you lend her the money?””
“I thought I was helping her.””
“With money I lent your business?””
“It's not that simple!””
“Then explain the simple part. Did you give your mother money from the account?””
He stared at the screen.
“Yes.””
Camille stepped away from the counter.
“How many times?””
“I don't know.””
She felt something inside her go very still.
“Did you tell her that the money was mine?””
“I told her it was business capital.””
“Which came from me.””
“Yes.””
“And she knew you were supposed to repay it?””
Derrick didn't answer.
Camille gave a short nod.
“Okay.””
He looked up quickly.
“Okay? What does that mean?””
“It means I'm done arguing about facts you refuse to explain.””
She walked into the bedroom, retrieved her laptop, and returned to the kitchen. She opened the folder containing the signed loan agreement.
The document was clear. The loan had been made to Derrick's company for specific business purposes, with repayment terms and provisions requiring records of how the funds were used.
Nothing in it authorized Patricia to borrow the money for personal expenses.
Camille forwarded the account information to her attorney, requesting a review of the transactions before she made any decisions.
Derrick watched her type.
“Are you sending that to a lawyer?””
“Yes.””
“Camille, that's my company.””
“And the money is mine.””
“You're going to destroy everything I've built.””
She looked up.
“I'm asking you to account for money you agreed to repay.””
“Mom will say you were waiting for an excuse to attack her.””
“Your mother can say whatever she wants.””
He stood and began pacing.
“She helped me when nobody else would.””
Camille turned her laptop toward him.
“Then why did she need eighteen thousand five hundred dollars from your business account without telling you what it was for?””
Derrick stopped pacing.
For the first time, he appeared to consider the question.
His phone vibrated.
A message from Patricia appeared on the screen.
*PATRICIA: Did you explain to Camille that the account was for family purposes? She has no right to interfere with money that belongs to us.*
Camille read it over his shoulder.
“Family purposes?””
Derrick grabbed the phone.
“Don't read my messages.””
She looked at him incredulously.
“Your mother just referred to my loan as family money, and I'm the one who's out of line?””
He said nothing.
Camille closed her laptop.
“Tomorrow morning, I'm going to ask for a complete accounting of the loan and every related transaction. Until my attorney reviews the records, I won't agree to any changes.””
Derrick's face tightened.
“What am I supposed to tell Mom?””
“The truth.””
He laughed bitterly.
“You make that sound easy.””
“It is easy, Derrick. You just don't like what it costs you.””
He stared at her for a long moment, then picked up his blazer from the chair.
“I'm going to stay at Mom's tonight.””
Camille nodded.
“That's your choice.””
He seemed disappointed by the absence of protest.
“That's all you have to say?””
“What would you like me to do? Beg you to stay?””
His jaw worked, but he couldn't find an answer.
He left without touching the cake he'd brought.
When the door closed, Camille remained in the kitchen until the house was completely quiet.
Then she opened her laptop again and reviewed the account statement.
One transaction caught her eye.
A transfer of $42,000 to a company named *PW Family Holdings LLC*.
The payment had been made four months earlier.
Camille searched the business name in the public corporate records. The registered manager was Patricia Williams.
Her mother-in-law had not simply borrowed money from Derrick's business.
She had transferred a substantial amount into a company she controlled.
Camille printed the record and placed it beside the loan agreement.
Then her phone rang.
The caller was Marcus.
“Camille,” he said, sounding unusually serious, “I think I know why Aunt Patricia was so desperate to keep everyone from looking at that account.””
“Why?””
“Because she told the family she was going to buy a property. She said Derrick was helping her with the deposit.””
Camille stared at the $42,000 transfer.
“Do you know which property?””
Marcus paused.
“Yes. That's why I'm calling.””
He gave her the address.
Camille searched it.
May you like
The property was a commercial building in Atlanta.
And the recorded purchase price was far beyond what Patricia could reasonably afford on her own.
