Here is what Cora and Howard found, working at her kitchen table night after night while I cooked and listened and finally, slowly, let myself hope.
The "unfamiliar vendor" that received the st*len money was a shell company. On paper it was independent. In reality, it had been registered by Wesley, with Claudia listed under her maiden name as the secondary account holder. They'd built it a year before the transfers started.
The transactions I "authorized" from my hospital vigil had been made with my login — but Howard pulled the access logs, and the logins came from an IP address at our company office. At the exact hours, on the exact days, that building security footage and hospital visitor records proved I was forty miles away, asleep in a chair beside my dying mother-in-law.
I could not have made those transfers. The numbers said so. The timestamps said so. They had always said so. No one had simply bothered to make them speak, because it was easier to believe the wife did it.
