What do you mean, Mason? He picked up his books and headed toward the stairs. I need to check our bank accounts first. Then we’ll know exactly what we’re dealing with.
Bank accounts? My thirteen-year-old grandson was talking about checking bank accounts? Mason, wait. But he was already climbing the stairs to his room, leaving me alone in a house that suddenly felt enormous and empty, with questions I couldn’t answer and a future I couldn’t see. me, every creak and groan magnified in the darkness.
Around midnight, I heard it, the soft clicking of computer keys coming from Mason’s room. I padded down the hallway in my bathrobe and slippers, pausing outside his door. Light seeped from beneath the frame, and the typing continued with steady, purposeful rhythm, far too focused for a boy who should be sleeping.
I knocked gently. Mason? It’s past midnight, sweetheart. Come in, Grandma.
I pushed open the door to find Mason sitting at his desk, still fully dressed, surrounded by notebooks and printed papers. His laptop screen glowed with what looked like multiple windows and data streams I couldn’t begin to understand. What are you doing up so late? Research.
He gestured to the papers scattered across his desk. I’ve been going through Dad’s digital footprints for the past three hours. Digital footprints? I moved closer, trying to make sense of the documents, bank statements, credit reports, what looked like email printouts, all bearing our family name.
Mason, where did you get these? Dad isn’t very careful with his passwords. He clicked something on his laptop, and a new window opened showing what appeared to be Craig’s email account. He uses the same one for everything.
Linda, 2010. The year they got married. My stomach dropped.
You hacked into your father’s email? Technically, I just logged in with his password. It’s not hacking if he left the door unlocked. Mason’s matter-of-fact tone made my head spin.
Grandma, you need to sit down. What I found is worse than we thought. I sank into the chair beside his desk, my legs suddenly unsteady.
How much worse? Mason handed me a printed bank statement with my name at the top. I stared at the numbers, blinking hard to make sure I was reading correctly. This can’t be right.
My savings account shows $12. It’s right. His young voice carried a weight no child should bear.
Dad didn’t just take some money when he left. He’s been draining our accounts for months. The paper trembled in my hands.
$12. My life savings, accumulated over decades of teaching, reduced to pocket change. What about Mason’s college fund? Mason handed me another statement.
The account that should have contained $43,000 showed zero. No, the word came out as a whisper. No, that money was protected.
It was in a special education savings account. Not anymore. Mason pulled up another document on his screen.
Three weeks ago, Dad transferred it all to his personal checking account. Then he moved it somewhere else. I felt like I was drowning in numbers and betrayal.
Somewhere else where. That’s what took me so long to figure out. Mason’s fingers moved across the keyboard with practiced ease.
Dad’s been working with someone. Her name is Vanessa Torres. She works at Meridian Financial Services downtown.
He pulled up a social media profile showing a young woman with dark hair and a bright smile. Professional photos, vacation pictures, inspirational quotes about living your best life. She’s his girlfriend? More than that.
She’s been helping him move money around, create new accounts, even apply for loans using our information. Mason’s jaw tightened with an anger that looked startling on his young face. Grandma, they’ve been planning this for months.
The room spun around me. I gripped the edge of Mason’s desk, trying to process what he was telling me. What kind of loans? Mason clicked to another document.
A $30,000 personal loan using your name and social security number. A $15,000 credit card application using my social security number with a fake age listed as 25. They forged all the signatures.
Identity theft. My own son had stolen my identity and his child’s identity to fund his escape with another woman. How do you know all this? I’ve been watching Dad’s behavior for weeks.
The secret phone calls. The way he acted when certain emails came in. How he’d quickly close his laptop when I walked into the room.
Mason minimized one window and opened another. I started paying attention because something felt wrong. Then I learned how to see what he was hiding.
Learned how? YouTube tutorials, mostly. Online forums about computer security. It’s not that hard once you understand the basics.
I stared at my grandson. This child I’d raised from birth and realized I’d been living with a stranger. While I’d been helping him with homework and packing his lunches, he’d been teaching himself cybersecurity skills.
Mason, this is illegal. What they’ve done to us. I know.
His voice was calm, steady. That’s why I documented everything. Every transfer, every forged document, every fraudulent application.
I have proof of all of it. He opened a folder on his desktop labeled Evidence. And my breath caught.
Dozens of files, screenshots, bank records, email conversations between Craig and Vanessa discussing their plans. They were going to disappear together. Vanessa had been looking at apartments in different cities.
They were planning to change their names and start over with our money. Were? Mason’s expression shifted to something I’d never seen before. Not anger, exactly, but cold satisfaction.
Their plans hit a few snags today. Before I could ask what he meant, his laptop chimed with an email notification. Mason glanced at the screen and smiled, a smile that sent chills down my spine.
That would be Dad’s bank calling about the fraud alert I filed this afternoon. You filed a fraud alert? I filed several things today. Fraud alerts, identity theft reports, complaints to the State Banking Commission.
Mason leaned back in his chair. I also sent some very interesting information to Vanessa’s employer about her unauthorized access to client accounts. My mouth fell open.
Mason, what have you done? I protected us. His voice was matter-of-fact, like he was discussing a school project. Dad thought he could steal from us and walk away clean.
He thought we were too trusting and helpless to fight back. The laptop chimed again. Mason glanced at the new email, and his smile widened.
And that would be confirmation that Vanessa Torres has been suspended from Meridian Financial pending investigation into client account irregularities. I felt dizzy. While I’d been crying myself to sleep and wondering how we’d pay next month’s bills, my grandson had been waging digital warfare against the people who’d betrayed us.
How did you learn to do all this? The same Internet that taught Dad how to commit financial fraud taught me how to stop it. Mason closed his laptop and looked at me directly. Grandma, they didn’t just steal our money.
They tried to steal our future. Someone had to make sure there were consequences. I looked around Mason’s room with new eyes at the organized desk.
The neat stacks of evidence, the calm determination of a child who’d been forced to become his own protector. What happens now? Mason stood up and began organizing his papers into careful piles. Now we wait.
Dad’s accounts are frozen, Vanessa’s career is over, and their apartment hunting has stalled since their loan applications keep getting flagged for fraud. He paused, looking younger for a moment despite everything he’d accomplished. And tomorrow we start figuring out how to get our money back.
The next morning, I woke to the smell of coffee and scrambled eggs. I found Mason in the kitchen, fully dressed for school, two plates set on our small breakfast table. You cooked breakfast? You need to eat something, and I figured we both needed our strength today.