The fourth notification appeared while Mike was still leaning across the table.
He could not read the screen from where he sat.
I had angled the phone toward myself, leaving him with nothing but the glow reflected in the polished bowl of his wine glass.
“What does it say?” he asked again.
His voice had changed.
The confidence was still there, but now he was forcing it.
I looked at the transfer receipt beside my phone.
More than two million dollars, moved from my account without permission, spread across several days because my brother knew there were limits, then explained to the bank by pretending he had authority to speak for me.
Mike thought he had brought proof of his cleverness to dinner.
He had actually brought evidence.
“The thing is,” I said, “those notifications aren’t balance alerts.”
Jennifer’s fingers tightened around the stem of her glass.
Mom whispered, “Emma.”
I ignored her.
Mike sat back.
“Then what are they?”
I turned the phone over so the screen faced the table.
The details were not visible from the neighboring tables, but my family could see enough.
The bank had flagged the transfers after I failed to confirm activity connected to the account.
Because of the amount, the repeated access, and the unusual movement of funds, the case had been escalated.
The latest message confirmed that federal cybercrime investigators were already coordinating with the bank to trace the transfers.
Every dollar.
Mike stopped moving.
For a few seconds, nobody spoke.
The restaurant continued around us.
A waiter laughed softly near the bar.
Silverware touched porcelain.
Someone behind Dad asked for another bottle of wine.
At our table, the silence felt sealed.
Jennifer was the first to break it.
“Federal investigators?”
Mike laughed, but there was no humor in it.
“That’s ridiculous.”
I looked at him.
“Is it?”
“You can’t get the FBI involved because your brother made an investment.”
“I didn’t call them.”
That erased what was left of his smile.
Dad leaned forward.
“Then how are they involved?”
“The bank reported suspicious activity after the transfers were flagged.
The access pattern didn’t match mine.
The amounts were unusual.
And apparently somebody claimed to be me when the bank called.”
Everyone looked at Mike.
He put his glass down too hard.
“I didn’t claim to be you.”
“You told them I was making the investment.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“I was explaining it.”
“From my account?”
He opened his mouth, then closed it.
Mom reached for my wrist.
“Emma, please.
We can solve this as a family.”
