Chapter 3 - The Web of Deceit
By 5:00 PM, Carlos had driven me to the offices of Vance & Associates in downtown Fayetteville. Haley and Cody were safe—I had arranged for my sister, Sarah, who lived twenty minutes away in Sanford, to pick them up from the house under the pretense of a weekend sleepover. I didn't want my kids anywhere near the toxic fallout that was about to hit our home.
Mark Vance was a veteran himself—a former JAG officer who had spent the last fifteen years crushing fraudulent contractors and dishonest spouses in military divorce court. He sat behind a large mahogany desk, sifting through the high-resolution scans I had uploaded to his server.
"This is bad, Michael," Mark said, shaking his head as he adjusted his glasses. "Bad for her, good for you. But it's deep."
"How deep?" I asked, leaning forward with my hands clasped together.
Mark pulled up a screen displaying public county records and corporate filings. "Derrick Bennett isn't just a contractor. Bennett Renovation Group is a shell corporation registered six months ago. He has two prior civil judgments against him in Johnston County for home-improvement fraud. He targets military spouses while their husbands are deployed overseas."
My blood ran cold. "A predator."
"Exactly," Mark said, zooming in on a set of bank transactions Carlos's private investigator contact had managed to pull up through a preliminary check. "He finds lonely or financially naive spouses, convinces them to invest in 'can't-lose' real estate flips, gets them to sign over joint funds, and when the money runs dry, he uses forged power-of-attorney documents to milk the home equity dry before the service member returns."
"And Kendra?" I asked, the pain finally cutting through my anger. "How involved was she?"
"That’s the million-dollar question," Mark replied gently. "She transferred $21,000 directly from your joint account into an account co-owned by her and Derrick. That makes her an active participant, whether she was duped by him romantically or was a willing accomplice in defrauding you. But the forged equity application for $85,000? That’s felony bank fraud."
"What happens if I push this through the criminal courts?"
"Derrick goes to state prison," Mark said bluntly. "Kendra... depending on how much she cooperated in the forgery, could face indictment as a co-conspirator. At the very least, in divorce court, this is egregious marital waste and fraud. She won't see a dime of this house, and her claim to your military pension or alimony is dead in the water."
I leaned back in the leather chair, staring at the ceiling. Eight years of marriage. Eight years of sending money home, fighting in hot, dusty hellholes around the world, trusting that the woman I loved was building a life for our children. And the whole time, she was handing the keys to our castle to a serial fraudster.
"What's our first move?" I asked, my voice tightening.
"First," Mark said, pulling out a sheaf of emergency court motions, "we file for an immediate temporary restraining order and an emergency motion for exclusive use of the marital home. Second, we petition the court to freeze all joint accounts to prevent her from draining whatever is left. Third, we file a formal criminal complaint with the Cumberland County Sheriff's Department for felony forgery."
"Do it," I said without hesitation.
May you like
"Michael," Mark warned, looking at me with grave eyes. "She’s going to panic when she gets served. People like her and Derrick—when they realize the wall is closing in—they get desperate. They try to spin the narrative."
"Let her spin it," I said, standing up. "I’ve spent the last four months in a combat zone. She has no idea what kind of war she just started."
