Chapter 2: The Money Behind the Marriage
Marcus didn't sleep that night.
At 2:17 a.m., he was still sitting in his study, staring at the Westbridge Consulting website.
He had spent the previous hour searching public business records.
The company had been registered three years earlier.
Its official director was a man named Richard Hale.
The registered address was a small office building in downtown Chicago.
Marcus searched Richard's name.
Nothing particularly suspicious appeared.
A few business listings.
Two old professional profiles.
A photograph from a charity golf tournament.
But when Marcus searched Westbridge Consulting alongside the words financial investigation, a result appeared that made him sit upright.
A former customer had filed a civil complaint accusing the company of misrepresenting its investment services.
The case had been dismissed without a trial.
That didn't prove anything.
Still, Marcus felt uneasy.
He opened the bank statement again.
Three payments.
One company.
And an additional transfer to an unknown account.
He wrote down the dates.
Then he noticed something strange.
The first payment had been made only twelve days after his accident.
The second came while he was still hospitalized.
The third happened on the day doctors told him he might never walk without assistance.
Marcus stared at the dates.
Linda had been handling the family's finances during the most vulnerable period of his life.
She had told him she was struggling to pay medical expenses.
She had asked his sister for money.
She had even sold his old motorcycle, claiming the proceeds were needed for household bills.
Yet thousands of dollars had been transferred to Westbridge Consulting.
He rubbed his face.
"What are you doing, Linda?"" he whispered.
At seven in the morning, he heard the shower running upstairs.
Linda was getting ready for work.
Marcus waited until she left.
Then he called his older sister, Rebecca.
Rebecca had been suspicious of Linda for months, although she rarely said it directly.
She answered on the fourth ring.
"Marcus? It's early. Everything okay?""
"I need to ask you something.""
Her voice immediately changed.
"What's happened?""
"Do you remember when Linda asked you to lend us money last year?""
"Of course. She said the hospital bills were overwhelming.""
"How much did you give her?""
"Ten thousand.""
Marcus closed his eyes.
"Did she ever tell you what happened to it?""
Rebecca went quiet.
"She said it went toward your rehabilitation and the mortgage.""
"Did she show you any receipts?""
"No. Why?""
Marcus explained the bank loan and the payments to Westbridge Consulting.
When he finished, Rebecca didn't speak for several seconds.
Then she said, "Marcus, I think you need to check everything.""
"I know.""
"And don't confront her again until you understand what you're dealing with.""
"Why?""
"Because the last time I asked her about the money, she told me something strange.""
"What?""
Rebecca hesitated.
"She said you had authorized her to make decisions about your financial future because you might never recover enough to manage things yourself.""
Marcus felt his stomach tighten.
"I never gave her that authority.""
"That's what I thought.""
He looked down at his hands.
"Rebecca, I need you to help me.""
"Anything.""
At noon, Marcus visited a bank branch.
His wheelchair made the journey through the automatic doors easier than he expected, but every step of the process reminded him how dependent he had become on other people.
A bank officer named Olivia Grant reviewed his documents.
She was in her early forties, wore thin-framed glasses, and spoke with the calm precision of someone who had spent years dealing with complicated financial disputes.
"Mr. Carter, I can see why you're concerned," she said.
"Can you tell me how this loan was approved?""
Olivia examined the screen.
"The application was submitted through our home lending department. There is a digital record of your identity verification and an authorization form.""
"Can I see it?""
"Not immediately. I'll need to submit a formal request.""
Marcus leaned forward.
"I didn't authorize it.""
"Then we should treat this as a potential unauthorized transaction.""
"Who submitted the paperwork?""
Olivia checked another screen.
"Your wife, Mrs. Linda Carter, was the primary contact.""
"Was she listed as having power of attorney?""
Olivia paused.
"Yes.""
Marcus froze.
"Power of attorney?""
"According to the file, a limited financial authorization was submitted approximately two weeks after your accident.""
"I never signed that.""
Olivia looked at him.
"Are you certain?""
"Absolutely.""
She lowered her voice.
"Mr. Carter, I recommend that you obtain a copy of the authorization immediately. If the signature is not yours, you may need to report suspected document fraud.""
Marcus swallowed.
"Can you tell me what accounts she can access?""
Olivia reviewed the file.
"Under the authorization currently recorded, your wife may have been permitted to manage certain financial matters on your behalf.""
"Certain matters?""
"That includes some banking and property-related transactions.""
Marcus felt the room tilt.
For three years, he had believed Linda was simply helping him recover.
But she might have been making financial decisions in his name.
Decisions he knew nothing about.
Before leaving, he requested copies of every document connected to the loan and authorization.
Olivia printed a receipt.
"I'll flag the account for review," she said.
"But I want to be clear. We haven't established whether any wrongdoing occurred.""
"I understand.""
"Please don't ignore this, Mr. Carter.""
He nodded.
He had no intention of doing that.
That evening, Marcus returned home just as Jasmine was coming downstairs.
She wore an expensive-looking jacket he didn't recognize and carried a shopping bag from a luxury clothing store.
Marcus glanced at it.
"New jacket?""
Jasmine shrugged.
"Mom bought it.""
"Nice.""
She walked toward the refrigerator.
Marcus noticed the receipt sticking out of the bag.
The price was $1,250.
He said nothing.
A few seconds later, Jasmine turned toward him.
"Are you going to stare at me all night?""
"No. I was just wondering how things are going at school.""
"Fine.""
"Your college applications?""
"Mom's handling them.""
Marcus nodded.
"That's good. I was hoping we could look at some scholarships together.""
Jasmine laughed bitterly.
"Why? You can't afford college.""
The words stung.
"Your education has always mattered to me.""
"Then maybe you should have thought about that before the accident.""
Marcus looked at her.
"Jasmine, I saved your life.""
Her expression hardened.
"I never asked you to.""
She slammed the refrigerator door.
"You think I don't remember that night? I remember everything. I remember waking up in the hospital and finding out you were injured.
I remember Mom crying every night. I remember losing my friends because we had to move schools. I remember everything changing.""
"We didn't move schools because of me.""
"Whatever.""
"Jasmine, the truck hit us. It wasn't something I planned.""
She grabbed her bag.
"Mom says you should stop making everyone feel guilty.""
Marcus went still.
"Your mother said that?""
Jasmine looked away.
"Forget it.""
She hurried upstairs.
Marcus remained in the hallway.
He wondered what Linda had been telling her.
Had she convinced Jasmine that the accident was his fault?
Had she turned the one person he had nearly died protecting against him?
The front door opened.
Linda entered carrying groceries.
"Marcus, can you help me with these?""
He looked at the bags.
"You have two hands.""
Her eyes narrowed.
"What's that supposed to mean?""
"Nothing.""
She placed the groceries on the counter.
Marcus waited until she finished.
Then he said, "I went to the bank today.""
Linda stopped unpacking.
"Why?""
"I wanted copies of the loan documents.""
"You had no right to go behind my back.""
"My name is on the loan.""
"And I'm your wife.""
"That doesn't give you permission to sign my name.""
Linda put down a carton of milk.
"Marcus, I did what I had to do.""
"Did you forge my signature?""
Her face flushed.
"Don't you dare accuse me of that.""
"Then show me the original authorization.""
"I don't have it.""
"Where is it?""
"I said I don't have it!""
Marcus watched her breathing become faster.
"Linda, I want to understand why you took out a loan against our house and sent the money to Westbridge Consulting.""
She stared at him.
Then she laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
Because she was angry.
"You want the truth? Fine. You want to know why I made those decisions? Because you were lying in a hospital bed, and someone had to make sure we didn't lose everything.""
"I never asked you to take out a loan.""
"You couldn't even sit up without help!""
Marcus flinched.
Linda stepped closer.
"Do you know how many nights I spent worrying about the mortgage? How many times I had to explain your condition to the insurance company? How many people called asking for money?""
"I know you were under pressure.""
"No, you don't.""
"Then explain Westbridge.""
Linda looked toward the staircase.
Her voice dropped.
"Westbridge was helping me protect our assets.""
"From whom?""
She didn't answer.
Instead, she picked up her purse.
"I have to go out.""
"It's nearly eight.""
"I don't need your permission.""
She walked toward the door.
Marcus watched her hand reach for the handle.
Then he spoke.
"Linda, what happened to the money Rebecca lent us?""
Linda stopped.
Slowly, she turned around.
"Why are you talking to Rebecca?""
"Because she's my sister.""
"You had no right to involve her.""
"Did you use that money for my treatment?""
Linda's lips parted.
For a moment, she seemed unable to answer.
Then she said, "You should be more careful about the people you trust.""
She left.
The door clicked shut.
Marcus sat alone for several minutes before opening his laptop.
He decided to search the public records for the person listed as Westbridge Consulting's director.
Richard Hale.
He found the company's original registration documents and opened the attached filings.
One document listed the company's initial shareholders.
Richard Hale owned forty percent.
A second shareholder owned the remaining sixty percent.
Marcus leaned closer to the screen.
The name was familiar.
He read it again.
Then a third time.
<text color="secondary" size="xs" weight="medium">WESTBRIDGE CONSULTING — SHAREHOLDER RECORD</text>
*Linda Carter — 60% ownership.*
Marcus felt his mouth go dry.
His wife wasn't merely doing business with Westbridge.
She owned most of it.
But that wasn't the worst discovery.
He opened another filing, dated just five weeks after the accident.
It listed a change in the company's registered financial contact.
The contact wasn't Linda.
It was someone named Daniel Carter.
Marcus stared at the surname.
Carter.
He had no brother named Daniel.
No cousin.
No relative with that first name who had ever been involved in his finances.
He searched the name again.
This time, a photograph appeared.
A man in his early forties.
Dark hair.
A narrow face.
A familiar smile.
Marcus recognized him immediately.
Daniel Carter was the man Linda had introduced as her financial adviser at their anniversary party two years earlier.
But Marcus remembered something else.
That night, Daniel had disappeared with Linda for nearly forty minutes.
When they returned, Linda had claimed they were discussing an investment opportunity.
Marcus had thought nothing of it.
Now, looking at the photograph, he noticed the date on the business filing.
Daniel had been appointed financial contact only five weeks after Marcus's accident.
And the listed correspondence address was not Westbridge's office.
It was a residential property.
A house in a quiet Chicago suburb.
Marcus searched the address.
His heart began pounding.
The property had been purchased eighteen months earlier.
The buyer's name was Daniel Carter.
The second name on the deed was Linda Carter.
Marcus gripped the edge of his desk.
His wife had purchased a house with another man.
And she had used money connected to their family home to do it.
Just then, his phone vibrated.
An unknown number.
He answered.
"Hello?""
A man's voice came through.
"Mr. Carter? My name is Paul Reeves.
I'm calling from the county records investigation office. I believe you've recently requested information about Westbridge Consulting.""
Marcus straightened.
"Yes. Why?""
"Because your name appeared in a separate complaint involving that company.""
"What complaint?""
The man hesitated.
"Sir, before I explain, I need to ask you something.""
"Go ahead.""
"Are you aware that your wife recently submitted documents requesting the transfer of your ownership interest in the family home?""
Marcus stopped breathing.
"When?""
"Yesterday morning.""
"And who would receive it?""
There was a pause.
May you like
Then Paul answered.
"Westbridge Consulting.""
