Chapter 4 - The Invoice With My Name on It
I called Compliance immediately.
A woman named Evelyn Park answered.
“Ms. Morales, are you somewhere private?”
“Yes.”
“We need to discuss several vendor invoices.”
My stomach tightened.
“What invoices?”
“Do you know Gulf Atlantic Marine Consulting?”
“No.”
“Do you know George Morales?”
“My brother-in-law.”
Silence.
Then Evelyn said, “We need you back in Atlanta.”
“Why?”
“Because three invoices approved through credentials associated with your department were paid to Gulf Atlantic Marine Consulting.”
I stopped breathing.
“How much?”
“Just over eighty-six thousand dollars.”
The room seemed to tilt.
“I never approved anything like that.”
“We're investigating.”
“Who owns the company?”
“We're still verifying.”
I already knew.
George.
Or Rodrigo.
Or both.
I opened my laptop.
“Send me whatever I'm authorized to review.”
“We'll discuss it in person.”
My vacation ended that morning.
Not because Rodrigo ordered me home.
Because I finally understood the size of what I was facing.
I booked a flight to Atlanta.
I preserved every message.
Every transfer.
Every hotel record.
Every screenshot.
Then Lauren called.
She was crying.
“George lied to me.”
“What happened?”
“I asked about the charter business.”
“And?”
“He said Rodrigo invested.”
“With what money?”
“He wouldn't tell me.”
I closed my eyes.
“Lauren, you need your own lawyer.”
She became quiet.
“Is it that serious?”
“I think so.”
“How serious?”
“I don't know yet.”
That was the truth.
When I arrived in Atlanta, Monica met me at the airport.
She hugged me.
Then handed me a folder.
“Rodrigo was served electronically and at your house.”
“Our house?”
“He's already there.”
I looked at her.
“Change the locks?”
“Not legally without handling occupancy properly. Don't go alone.”
I didn't.
I went to work.
Compliance placed a stack of documents in front of me.
Three purchase orders.
Three approvals.
My employee ID.
My digital authorization.
But not my work.
I knew immediately.
The coding was wrong.
A cost analyst notices patterns other people don't.
The department number contained an outdated prefix.
The approval notes used phrases I never used.
And one timestamp showed authorization at 2:11 a.m.
I had been asleep.
“Someone copied my credentials.”
Evelyn nodded.
“We believe so.”
“Who had access?”
“We're determining that.”
Then she slid over the vendor registration.
GULF ATLANTIC MARINE CONSULTING LLC
Registered agent:
George Morales.
My brother-in-law.
I stared at the page.
Rodrigo hadn't merely stolen vacation money.
Somebody had used my professional identity to send company money to his brother.
My hands went cold.
“Call your attorney,” Evelyn said.
“I already have.”
“Good.”
That evening, Monica and I met with investigators.
I told them everything.
The house.
The fishing trip.
The transfers.
Rodrigo's card.
George.
When I finished, one investigator asked, “Did your husband ever use your work laptop?”
“No.”
“Did he know your passwords?”
“No.”
Then I remembered something.
Three months earlier, Rodrigo had brought dinner to my office during quarter-end.
I had stepped away to speak with my supervisor.
My badge had been beside my laptop.
Only for minutes.
But minutes were enough.
My phone buzzed.
Rodrigo.
This time Monica told me to answer on speaker.
“Hello?”
His voice was furious.
“You went to your company?”
“They called me.”
“You're destroying everything.”
I looked at Monica.
“Everything meaning what?”
“George's business.”
“Did you use my employee credentials?”
Silence.
Then:
“You don't understand.”
I almost laughed.
Those three words.
The anthem of guilty people everywhere.
“Explain.”
“We were going to repay it.”
Monica's eyes widened.
I stopped moving.
Rodrigo continued before realizing what he'd admitted.
“The charter business was supposed to start producing revenue this summer. George had contracts lined up.”
“Rodrigo.”
He stopped.
“You just admitted you took the money.”
Silence.
Then the call ended.
Monica stared at my phone.
“Please tell me that recorded.”
“It did.”
For the first time in forty-eight hours, I smiled.
But the smile disappeared when someone knocked on Monica's office door.
Her assistant entered carrying an overnight envelope.
“Daniela, this came for you.”
Inside was a copy of a loan agreement.
My name appeared beside Rodrigo's.
Loan amount:
$240,000.
Collateral:
Our home.
The signature beneath my name looked almost perfect.
Almost.
But I hadn't signed it.
May you like
And according to the date, Rodrigo had mortgaged our future six months before he stole my vacation.
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