Not the breeze. Not Chloe laughing. Not the tractor clicking faintly as its engine cooled.
Nothing.
“Two hundred and sixty thousand?”
“Yes.”
“Secured by what?”
“The application identifies your primary residence as supporting collateral.”
Rachel stood so quickly that the plastic crate beside her overturned.
Corn scattered across the dirt.
“Our house?”
“Yes.”
Rachel covered her mouth.
Brandon had not simply moved money.
He had attempted to borrow against the house where their children slept.
Using her income and her identity.
A signature she hadn’t provided.
“Mrs. Carter?”
“I’m still here.”
“We’ll need a formal affidavit. I also recommend contacting your bank, mortgage lender, and the credit bureaus immediately.”
Rachel stared toward the farmhouse.
Her mother was coming onto the porch carrying a pitcher of lemonade.
Rachel’s hands had begun to shake because she was starting to realize how much remained hidden from her.
“Can you send me copies of everything?”
“Yes.”
“Every document.”
“Yes.”
“And please preserve the login information connected to the application.”
The woman paused.
“I can make a note of that request.”
“Please do.”
Rachel’s accountant instincts had taken control.
Fear could wait.
First came documentation.
Dates. Amounts. Signatures. IP addresses.
