Chapter 8: The Financial Bloodbath
The next morning, the sun rose over a different world. Evelyn and Jamie were safely discharged from the hospital with a strict regimen of antibiotics and rest. I brought them back to the house, but only after I spent three hours scrubbing the kitchen, throwing away the trash, and changing the locks on every single door.
While Evelyn slept with Jamie in our master bedroom—finally reclaiming her space—I sat at the kitchen table with my laptop and a dread-filled stomach.
I needed to see the damage.
I logged into my banking portal. For the last year, my paycheck had been deposited into my primary checking account, and an automatic transfer of $3,500 went directly to an account my mother managed, ostensibly for "household expenses."
I clicked on her account. It was overdrawn by four hundred dollars.
My heart hammered against my ribs as I pulled up the transaction history. The money hadn't gone to groceries or utilities. The statements were a roadmap of reckless, hedonistic spending. Thousands of dollars dropped at luxury boutiques, high-end steakhouses, casino resorts across the river in Indiana, and massive cash withdrawals at local ATMs.
Worse, there were transfers. Hundreds of dollars sent directly via Zelle to Marcus.
I dug deeper, checking my credit report. My stomach plummeted into my shoes. There were three new credit cards opened in my name over the last eight months. All of them were maxed out. The total debt was staggering—over forty thousand dollars in fraudulent charges.
She had intercepted the mail. That’s why Evelyn had never seen a bill. Judith had systematically hijacked my identity, draining my income and leveraging my good credit to fund a lavish lifestyle for herself and the relatives who enabled her.
I slammed the laptop shut, rubbing my temples as a blinding headache set in.
The phone rang. The caller ID flashed Jefferson County Detention Center.
I stared at it for a long moment, my finger hovering over the reject button. But a primal need for answers, for some twisted form of closure, made me answer.
"Hello?" I said coldly.
"Colin, thank God," my mother’s voice came through the receiver, frantic and breathless. The background noise was a chaotic hum of the county jail. "You have to bail me out. They set my bond at fifty thousand dollars. You need to call the bondsman right now. It's ten percent, you can put it on your credit card."
I let out a dark, humorless laugh. "My credit cards? The ones you maxed out? Or the checking account you overdrew?"
There was a sudden, chilling silence on the other end of the line.
"I saw the statements, Judith," I continued, my voice dangerously calm. "Forty thousand dollars in debt. You stole my identity. You robbed your own son."
May you like
"Colin, be reasonable," she switched tactics instantly, her voice dropping the frantic act and adopting a cold, authoritative tone. "I raised you. I paid for your braces. I put a roof over your head. You owed me. You make six figures, you can easily pay that off. If you don't bail me out, I'm going to lose my job."
"You are going to lose a lot more than that," I promised softly. "I'm turning the financial records over to the police detective today. Enjoy your stay." I hung up the phone and blocked the number.
