Chapter 4 - The Signature That Wasn’t Mine
The envelope was taped to my front door.
FINAL PAYMENT NOTICE.
I carried it inside without removing my coat.
The company name belonged to an upscale Philadelphia event service.
Inside was an invoice.
Tent.
Catering.
Bar package.
Decorations.
Deposit paid: $2,000.
Remaining balance: $7,400.
Customer:
Elena Harper.
My hands went cold.
Below my name was a signature.
It looked vaguely like mine.
But it wasn’t.
I called the company.
A manager named Rachel answered.
After I explained the situation, her cheerful tone disappeared.
“You’re saying you never signed the contract?”
“Correct.”
“Did you authorize Derek Harper to act on your behalf?”
“No.”
Silence.
“We need to investigate this.”
She emailed me the paperwork.
Derek had listed my address.
My phone number.
My occupation.
Even my estimated income.
Then I saw the payment method used for the deposit.
It wasn’t mine.
The last four digits belonged to Dad’s credit card.
I called him.
He went quiet.
“I gave Derek the card.”
“Why?”
“He said you asked everyone to contribute deposits and would reimburse us.”
I closed my eyes.
Derek hadn’t just volunteered my money.
He had begun collecting money from other people while using my name.
“Dad, did anyone else give him money?”
“I don’t know.”
That evening, I received a message from Cousin Greg.
Did Derek give you my $600?
Then Aunt Linda.
I sent Derek $800 for our gift baskets. I assume you have it?
My stomach dropped.
I started making a list.
Within two hours, relatives admitted sending Derek more than $5,000.
Yet according to the event company, only $2,000 had ever been deposited.
Where was the rest?
I didn’t confront him immediately.
Gymnastics had taught me something important.
Never interrupt someone halfway through a mistake when the landing will reveal everything.
I gathered screenshots.
Receipts.
Payment confirmations.
Contracts.
Then Derek called.
“You’ve caused enough trouble.”
I almost laughed.
“Have I?”
“You embarrassed Mom.”
“Derek, where’s Greg’s $600?”
Silence.
“Excuse me?”
“And Linda’s $800.”
Another silence.
Then his tone changed.
“Elena, don’t start accusing me of things.”
“I’m asking a question.”
“I handled expenses.”
“Which expenses?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
That almost impressed me.
“You created a spreadsheet telling me how to spend $9,400, but I wouldn’t understand expenses?”
“Elena—”
“Where’s the money?”
He hung up.
That was answer enough.
The following morning, another message arrived.
This one came from my sister-in-law, Melissa.
Please don’t tell Derek I contacted you.
I stared at it.
Then another message appeared.
There’s something you need to know about why he needed everyone’s money.
And when Melissa told me, I realized Christmas hadn’t created Derek’s problem.
May you like
Christmas had merely exposed it.
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