Chapter 9 - The Money That Came Back
Priya told me not to speculate.
The deposits might be legitimate.
Bonuses.
Investment proceeds.
Reimbursements.
Family money.
Divorce disclosures existed to answer questions.
Mitchell’s attorney eventually produced records.
Some deposits came from sales commissions.
Others came from Theresa.
That made no sense.
Mitchell had been sending money to his mother.
Theresa had also been sending money to Mitchell.
Back and forth.
Sometimes within days.
“Why?”
I asked during a settlement conference.
Mitchell’s attorney answered before he could.
“Family cash management.”
Priya’s eyebrows rose slightly.
“That is not an explanation.”
Mitchell leaned forward.
“Mom had money tied up in certificates and investment accounts. Sometimes I covered expenses, then she reimbursed me.”
“Which accounts?”
“Different ones.”
“Then produce them.”
He did.
And that was when the story became stranger.
Theresa had received more than $300,000 three years earlier from Frank’s life-insurance policy.
She had not been penniless after his death.
She had used much of it.
Some went toward the mortgage.
Some toward debt.
A substantial portion went to Mitchell.
“Why did your mother give you seventy-five thousand dollars in April?” Priya asked.
Mitchell shifted in his chair.
“Investment.”
“In what?”
“My business.”
“You’re an employee.”
“A side opportunity.”
“Describe it.”
His attorney requested a break.
That was the moment I knew this mattered.
Outside the conference room, Mitchell approached me.
“Don’t let Priya turn this into something criminal.”
“Is it criminal?”
“No.”
“Then why are you scared?”
He looked toward the closed door.
“Because Mom didn’t understand the risk.”
I felt my stomach drop.
“What risk?”
Mitchell had invested Theresa’s money in a private real-estate lending venture organized by one of his insurance clients.
The returns were supposed to be high.
The loans were supposedly secured by properties.
Mitchell received referral fees for bringing in investors.
Theresa invested $220,000.
Most of it was gone.
“Gone how?”
“The borrower defaulted.”
“When?”
“Last year.”
Before Theresa’s missed mortgage payments.
Before she moved into my home.
Before Mitchell began secretly sending her money.
Theresa had not simply spent herself into foreclosure.
Mitchell had encouraged her to place a large portion of her remaining financial cushion into an investment that failed.
His guilt explained the desperation.
But not everything.
“Does Theresa know the money is gone?”
Mitchell’s face changed.
“She knows there are delays.”
I stared at him.
“You’ve been telling her it’s coming back.”
He said nothing.
Theresa had spent months believing the condo scheme was temporary because Mitchell had promised another source of money would eventually save her.
May you like
The person controlling that story had never been Theresa.
It was my husband.
