“Sometimes clients never get their money back.”
“What?”Oh, my God. This cannot be happening.After the bank manager helped her fill out the online claim form, Providence closed the hacked account and opened a new one. An hour and a half later, she left the bank.
Alone in her car, she wanted to give in to the myriad of emotions rattling around in her head. But crying wouldn’t change a thing. After taking a moment to breathe, she checked her wallet. Twenty-seven bucks. The asshole who’d broken into her condo popped into her thoughts.He was looking for my checkbook so he could steal my money. That motherfucker.
Being an action-oriented person, she drove to her parents’ house where she found her dad on his laptop in the screened-in porch.
“Hey, Dad.” Providence sat beside him at the table. “Where is everyone?”
“Your mom is in bed. Lizzie’s at work. Randy was in the family room.”
“I didn’t see him.”
“So, dear, what brings you by in the middle of the work day?”
“My bank account was hacked and I’m wiped out.”
His eyebrows jutted into his forehead. “I’m sorry to hear that. How did that happen?”
She didn’t want to tell him her condo had been broken into. He would worry about her safety and she definitely wasn’t telling him she’d moved into Dakota’s home. “Just one of those unlucky things.”
The porch door opened and Randy strolled in. “What unlucky thing?”
“It’s nothing,” she replied. “How’s the exciting world of real estate?”
Randy grinned. “I’m working it like a pro. How’s by you?”
“Providence’s bank account was hacked into,” her dad blurted.
She wished he hadn’t said that.
“That sucks,” Randy said. “Can you get your money back?”
“Doubtful.” She addressed her dad. “I hate to ask…can you loan me some money so I can pay my mortgage?”
“I’ll help you out,” Randy said.
“That’s okay,” Providence protested.
“Mom and Gordon have been so generous to Lizzie and me. I’ve got a little money squirreled away. Let me get my checkbook.” He walked into the house.
Providence slid her gaze to her dad. “I’d feel more comfortable borrowing the money from you.”
“How much do you need?”
“A couple thousand,” she replied.
He patted her back. “I’ll help you, honey.”
She sighed. “Thank you. I’ll pay you back over the next—”
“It’s fine. I’ll write you a check.” Her dad ambled inside. He looked so tired. The stress of her mom’s illness was taking its toll on him, too. In the kitchen, he pulled his checkbook out of the drawer.
Randy offered her a check. “I don’t have much, but please, take it.”
It was for two hundred and fifty dollars.
“You should keep it, especially if you’re looking to move out.”
