The Investigation They Didn’t Expect
The bank didn’t treat this like a misunderstanding.
Nearly six figures doesn’t get a call center rep—it gets an investigator.
Mine was Mr. Henderson.
I gave him everything:
- Texts limiting the card to emergencies only
- Proof I wasn’t in Hawaii
- Work logs and badge swipes
Then came the surveillance footage.
My sister, Olivia, laughing in a Waikiki boutique.
My mother handing over my black metal card.
And the moment everything collapsed:
Olivia tracing my signature from a photo.
Forgery.
“This is criminal identity theft,” Mr. Henderson said.
My mother called me eighteen times in one hour.
Crying.
Bargaining.
Raging.
Olivia texted once:
You wouldn’t notice. You have so much money.
I forwarded the text to the investigator.
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