Five minutes later, the truth appeared on my screen.
Ethan owed $6,240.
Mark’s document demanded $16,000.
I contacted the university.
They could not discuss Ethan’s private account without permission, but they confirmed that the payment instructions on Mark’s invoice did not belong to the school.
The laptop package did not exist.
The private credit union account had no connection to the university.
Then Ethan found something worse.
His account showed a student loan refund of $4,800 that had been deposited three weeks earlier.
He had never received it.
The destination account matched the one printed on Mark’s false invoice.
“Did you approve that transfer?” I asked.
“Dad helped set up my portal. He said the money would stay with the school.”
“Change your password immediately.”
“Is he in trouble?”
“I don’t know yet. But you are not responsible for protecting him from the consequences of decisions he made without your permission.”
I spent the afternoon building a timeline.
The false invoice.
The real balance.
The redirected refund.
Mark’s demand.
