Chapter 7: The Second Account
Godfrey stood up so fast his chair scraped back two feet.
"I didn't know she was putting it there," he said.
"I didn't know the account existed until six months ago."
"Sit down, Godfrey," Selina said.
"No." He stayed standing.
"No.
I'm not doing this anymore."
"Godfrey—"
"She's sick." He pointed at Phedra.
His hand was shaking.
"She has been sick for almost a year and she was sleeping in the shed.
I told myself it wasn't that bad.
I told myself Phedra was difficult, that she exaggerated, that Selina knew best." He stopped.
"I was wrong.
I knew I was wrong and I kept telling myself I wasn't."
The room was very quiet.
Phedra looked at him.
She didn't say anything.
"The account," Marcus said, redirecting calmly.
"The balance as of this morning is sixty-three thousand dollars."
I sat down.
Sixty-three thousand dollars.
Sitting in an account while Phedra missed four months of cancer treatment.
"That money," Marcus said, "was transferred in amounts that stayed just below the threshold for automatic bank reporting.
Consistent amounts.
Consistent timing.
That is not an accident.
That is deliberate structuring." He looked at Selina.
"Which is a separate federal offense from the fraud on the loan application."
Selina sat down slowly.
For the first time since I'd walked through the gate, she looked her age.
"I want a lawyer," she said.
"That is your right," Marcus said.
"I'd recommend you call one tonight."
She looked at me.
Not with guilt.
With something older and more complicated — the look of a woman who had believed, completely, that she was the center of something, and was only now beginning to understand that the center had shifted.
"I did what I thought was best," she said.
"For this family.
For you.
Everything I did was for you."
"Then why is she sick?" I said.
"If everything you did was for me — why is my wife sick, and why is she the one who was sleeping in the shed?"
Selina had no answer for that.
Godfrey cleared his throat.
"The sixty-three thousand," he said to Marcus.
"Can it be returned?
To Damian?
To pay for her treatment?"
"That will be part of the legal process," Marcus said.
"But yes.
Recovery is possible."
"I'll cooperate," Godfrey said.
"Whatever you need.
Statements, account access, whatever.
I'll cooperate."
"Godfrey," Selina said sharply.
"I'm done," he said.
He didn't look at her.
"I'm done, Selina."
Marcus made a note.
He asked Godfrey several questions — dates, amounts, what he had known and when.
Godfrey answered all of them.
His voice was flat and careful, like a man walking across ice, testing each step.
Selina did not speak again.
At some point during this, Phedra reached over and took my hand.
I looked at her.
She was watching Godfrey with an expression I couldn't entirely read — not forgiveness, not yet, but something that wasn't pure anger either.
Something that left a door slightly open.
When Marcus finished his notes, he looked at me.
"I think we should get Phedra to the hospital now," he said.
"I'll follow up with the clinic in the morning to reinstate her care.
Dr.
Mensah's office has already been contacted and they're expecting her."
I stood.
Phedra stood with me.
At the door, I stopped and looked back at the room.
The new floors.
The massive TV.
The leather furniture.
The granite countertops catching the kitchen light.
Selina was still sitting at the table.
She hadn't moved.
The hummingbird pendant was at her throat.
"I'll need that back," I said.
She looked up.
"The necklace," I said.
"It belongs to Phedra."
A long pause.
Then Selina reached up and unclasped it.
She set it on the table without looking at either of us.
I picked it up and placed it in Phedra's hand.
Her fingers closed around it.
We walked out.
Behind us, I heard Selina pick up her phone.
Her voice was low and tight when she spoke.
May you like
"I need a lawyer," she said.
"Tonight."
