Chapter 3 - THE ACCOUNT I NEVER OPENED
I met Elena the next morning.
Her office was on the ninth floor of a building in Midtown, above a dentist and a small accounting firm.
There were no intimidating marble columns.
No men in expensive suits standing outside.
Just a receptionist who offered me tea and a quiet room where I could sit without being watched.
Elena was in her forties, with silver beginning to appear in her dark hair.
She listened while I explained my marriage.
The first time Marcus grabbed my wrist.
The apologies.
The excuses.
The way he gradually took control of our finances.
The night he told me I was too stupid to manage a checking account.
The first time he hit me.
I expected Elena to look shocked.
Instead, she took careful notes.
When I finished, she said, “Thank you for telling me.”
I stared at the floor.
“I should have left earlier.”
“You're here now.”
She opened a folder.
“Let's focus on what happens next.”
The financial questions began simply.
Did I have my own bank account?
No.
Did I have access to our joint savings?
Not anymore.
Did I know whether Marcus had opened accounts using my information?
I frowned.
“I don't think so.”
Elena looked up.
“Has he ever asked you to sign business documents?”
My stomach tightened.
“Sometimes.”
“What kind?”
“He said they were tax forms.”
“Did you read them?”
“He'd get angry if I asked questions.”
Elena was silent.
Then she said, “I'd like your permission to review your credit reports and any documents you can safely obtain.”
I nodded.
“Okay.”
Three hours later, Elena called me back into her office.
She looked troubled.
“Mia, there's something you need to see.”
On her computer screen was a business registration.
VALE HARBOR CONSULTING LLC
Owner: Mia Vale
I stared.
“I've never heard of that company.”
Elena clicked another document.
A commercial loan.
Four hundred and eighty thousand dollars.
My name appeared beneath the signature line.
My signature.
Except I hadn't signed it.
“That isn't mine,” I whispered.
Elena nodded.
“I suspected as much.”
My hands began shaking.
“What does this mean?”
“It means someone may have used your identity to obtain financing.”
“Marcus?”
“We need evidence before drawing conclusions.”
I stared at the screen.
Four hundred and eighty thousand dollars.
My husband had been telling me we couldn't afford groceries without his approval.
And someone had borrowed nearly half a million dollars in my name.
That afternoon, I returned to Romano's.
Dante was sitting alone in the private dining room.
He looked up when I entered.
“Marco said you wanted to speak to me.”
I closed the door.
“Why does Marcus know you?”
Dante didn't answer immediately.
Then he said, “His consulting firm has worked with companies connected to mine.”
I stared.
“Connected how?”
“Financial compliance. Contract reviews. Asset management.”
“Does he work for you?”
“Not directly.”
“Then why was he afraid?”
Dante's expression darkened.
“Because I recently discovered irregularities in accounts he helped manage.”
I felt cold.
“What kind of irregularities?”
“Missing funds. False invoices. Companies that may not exist.”
I thought of the loan.
The business registration.
My forged signature.
“Four hundred and eighty thousand dollars?” I asked.
Dante went still.
“What?”
I swallowed.
“Is that one of the amounts?”
He stood slowly.
“Mia, where did you hear that number?”
I backed toward the door.
His expression changed.
He stopped.
“I'm not coming closer.”
I looked at him.
“Someone borrowed that much money in my name.”
For the first time since meeting him, Dante Castellano looked genuinely stunned.
Then he said, “Marcus didn't just hurt you.”
May you like
He glanced toward the window.
“He may have made you part of something much bigger.”
