“My Wife Handles the Paperwork, I Handle the Assets,” He Told the Contractor. He Never Read What He’d Signed

It was a small, boring safeguard, the kind of thing you set up and forget.

Camden had not forgotten it.

He had gotten around it.

To move the money, he had reproduced my electronic signature and authorized the withdrawals as though I had stood beside him and approved every one.

He had not simply spent our savings behind my back.

He had forged a bank authorization to do it.

And a forged bank authorization is not a marital disagreement that a good cry and a weekend away can mend.

It is a federal-flavored word: fraud.