RE: Wire Transfer Confirmation — $60,000
My stomach drops. I click the email.
It's from a bank I don't recognize, confirming a transfer from our business account to an account in the Cayman Islands in the name of Chet Morgan. Sixty thousand dollars. Dated two days ago.
I scroll down. There's a chain of emails beneath it. More transfers. Different amounts. Ten thousand here, fifteen thousand there. All going to the same offshore account, all for different charities.
I open the flight confirmation email. It’s in the name of Chet Morgan. Everything starts to click into place, and I stumble out of the chair and make it to the bathroom before I cry, or throw up, or both.
Ty is a con artist. Hearts United is a scam. And I'm the idiot who's been helping him steal from people who thought they were doing something good.
I press my forehead to the cool tile and try to breathe. My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out with numb fingers.
Clay: How's the setup going?
I stare at the message. Clay will know what to do… he’ll help me fix this.
But first, I need to talk to someone who won't look at me and be disappointed I’m such a fool. I need to fall apart first.
I call Tania.
She picks up on the second ring. “Hey! How's my favorite?—”
“My boss is a con artist.” The words tumble out. “The charity is fake. He's been stealing donations and I didn't know and I helped him and oh my God, Tania, I'm going to jail.”
“Whoa, hey Karina, slow down!” Her voice shifts from cheerful to serious. “Start from the beginning.”
I tell her everything. The weird conversation with Ty. The emails and the donations. The flight. The offshore accounts. By the end, I'm crying so hard I can barely speak.
“Breathe, honey,” Tania says when I finish. “First of all, you're not going to jail. You didn't do anything wrong.”
“I’m running the event and my name is on everything. I'm the face of this scam.”
“You're thevictimof this scam. There's a difference.”
I wipe my nose with toilet paper and sniff. “God, Tania. I'm such an idiot. Everyone warned me. My mom said I trust too easily. Maria said the job sounded too good to be true. And I just... I wanted so badly to be good at something.”
“You are good at a lot of things. Some asshole taking advantage of your kindness doesn't change that.”
“It sure feels like it does.”
Her voice is soft. “I know. But you're not alone, okay? Have you told your hot biker yet? Isn’t Clay the president of the motorcycle club?”
Clay. My chest aches at his name.
“Not yet.”
“Ask him. He's got resources, right? His club does security stuff. Maybe they can help figure out how to nail this Ty guy.”
She's right. Clay will know what to do.
“Okay,” I say. “I'll go find him.”
“Call me later. Love you.”
“Love you too.”
I hang up and splash water on my face. My reflection looks terrible; I’m all red eyes, blotchy skin and black mascara smeared down my cheeks. I clean up as best I can. When I get back outside, Ty’s laptop is gone and the volunteer tells me he had to go to a meeting.
