I stopped in the center of the kitchen. I didn’t say a word. I simply placed the binder on the counter and opened it to the page displaying the lease agreement for their new penthouse.
Brian looked down, his initial annoyance turning into a flicker of confusion, then a sudden, visible panic. He began to leaf through the pages, his face turning from a dismissive smirk to a sickly, pale sweat. Melissa leaned in, her eyes darting across the figures until her expression mirrored his.
“What is this?” Brian whispered, his voice failing him. “Dad, where did you get this?”
“I’m an accountant, Brian,” I said, my voice quiet but cutting through the silence of the kitchen like glass. “I don’t just count money. I track integrity. And you, it seems, have none…
I pulled out my phone and dialed the number I had saved earlier. I put it on speaker. A calm, professional voice answered: “Bennett residence, how may I assist you?”
“This is Walter Bennett,” I said. “I am reporting a case of identity theft and financial fraud involving Brian and Melissa Bennett. I have all the documentation ready for the police and the bank’s fraud department. They are currently in my residence.”
Brian lunged for the phone, but I was faster. I stepped back, holding the phone firmly, my eyes fixed on his. “The cards are dead, Brian. The accounts are frozen. The lease on that penthouse you tried to rent in my name? The bank has already flagged it as fraudulent. You have absolutely nothing. You are not a landlord, you are not a benefactor, and as of this moment, you are not a guest in this house.”
Melissa started to wail, her composure shattering instantly. “Brian, what did you do? You told me everything was cleared!”
