#Charles Ponzi | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

priteva-blog · 1 month

Text

Investing in Deception: How Friendship, Love, and Ambition Fueled a $150,000 Scam

This is a story I find deeply triggering, one that I’ve struggled to tell. But in reliving it, there are lessons to be learned about the perils of misplaced trust and the high cost of blind loyalty. It’s a story of deception, ambition, and heartbreak — a cautionary tale about the dark side of supporting friends in their entrepreneurial dreams. For the sake of privacy, names have been changed to protect the innocent.

It was the spring of 2019 when my long-time friend, *Lauryn, came to me with a business opportunity. Lauryn and I had been close for over 15 years, our bond forged in the trenches of grad school and solidified by shared life experiences. When she pitched her idea to me, I didn’t hesitate to listen. She was more than a friend — she was my sister, and I was eager to see her succeed.

Lauryn had been through a lot. Two years earlier, she lost her husband, becoming a single mother to two young children at just 39. As a widow, she faced challenges that would have broken many, but Lauryn was resilient. She was rebuilding her life, and I was invested in her success. That’s why, when she approached me about reviving her wellness business, I was all in.

Lauryn was no novice in the health and wellness industry. She had owned a natural body care line, taught fitness classes, and dreamed of opening her own wellness center. She was knowledgeable, passionate, and ready to take her business to the next level. So, when she met Zacharia Ali — a financier, businessman, and investor — at our local LA Fitness, she believed it was a divine connection.

All Smoke and Mirrors

Zac was everything Lauryn needed at that moment — a businessman with a wealth of experience, or so it seemed. He offered her intimacy, mentorship, and guidance. Lauryn fell for him, both as a romantic partner and mentor. Zac carried himself with an air of authority, his words laced with the promise of success and prosperity. He spoke of his business accolades and widespread connections. He informed her that he was divorced, had sadly lost a child in a car accident, and had moved to the area for a fresh start. He was a practicing Muslim from a prominent family in Philadelphia. He was well-connected and had successfully launched many companies, and now he wanted to do the same for Lauryn.

The First Red Flag: Trust, but Verify

When Lauryn introduced me to Zac, I was initially impressed. He spoke with authority about entrepreneurship, investing, and the importance of ownership in the Black community. He even attended my birthday party, where we discussed his ventures in South America, the Middle East, and the African diaspora. Over time, Zac and I exchanged messages about business opportunities, and he seemed genuinely invested in our shared goals.

Zac became more than just Lauryn’s romantic partner and mentor; he became a central figure in our budding business venture. He offered to use his extensive network to help Lauryn relaunch her brand, promising to turn it into an international success. The plan was ambitious but enticing: we would create a line of CBD-infused skincare products, tapping into the booming wellness market. I was hesitant but hopeful. Lauryn’s trust in him reassured me. In hindsight, I should have let Lauryn and Zac work together without getting involved.

Despite my initial reservations, I convinced myself that Zac’s impressive background and Lauryn’s enthusiasm were enough to move forward. I researched Zac’s company, Zar Capital, and found nothing alarming — just websites and social media endorsements that aligned with his stories. But I ignored the small voice inside that urged caution.

The Second Red Flag: If It Sounds Too Good to Be True, It Probably Is

Despite my initial excitement, a nagging voice in the back of my mind urged caution. I researched Zac and his company, Zar Capital. His online presence seemed legitimate — impressive even. His website detailed his supposed business ventures in South America, the Middle East, and across the African diaspora. But beyond the polished surface, something felt off.

Still, Lauryn was convinced. Zac had become her rock, helping her navigate the complexities of business and life after loss. She believed in him, and because I believed in her, I put my doubts aside. Under Zac’s guidance, we formed a business partnership: Lauryn would hold 50% of the company, Zac 30%, and I would take a 20% stake. It seemed like a fair arrangement, and over the next few months, Lauryn and I made substantial investments via wire transfer, totaling $110,000. We were instructed to send the money to a Navy Federal account for GC Worldwide under the umbrella of Zac’s businesses, CBD Switch Holding Corp and Zar Capital.

Another Red Flag: All New Opportunities Are Not Good Opportunities — The Moringa Mirage

As if the CBD venture wasn’t enough, Zac presented me with another investment opportunity: a business centered around the Moringa plant in Ethiopia. He pitched it as low-risk, with the potential for high returns and the added appeal of supporting Black businesses in Africa. He presented me with diagrams, mocks, financials, a business plan, and extensive research. I invested $40,000, and we formed a company called the Moringa Cartel. Through documented email presentations, Zac promised to establish operations in Ghana, help with the business plan, and set up the website. I was excited about the prospects, but the excitement was short-lived.

Trust Your Gut

Once the money was sent and the paperwork signed, unease set in. I noticed discrepancies, like the fact that our business was registered in Nevada, even though we were all based in the Mid-Atlantic region. I decided to dig deeper, using the state of Nevada’s business portal, Silver Flume. What I found left me reeling: only the company formed between Lauryn, Zac, and me existed as a domestic corporation. My name wasn’t listed anywhere, and neither was Zac’s. Lauryn was the sole officer of the company. As for the Moringa Cartel, it was nothing more than a name reservation that had expired three months after its formation. On paper, my $100,000 investment had vanished into thin air.

“All Skinfolk Ain’t Kinfolk”

The pandemic hit, bringing unforeseen challenges. Despite this, I consistently reached out to Zac for updates. I pleaded with Lauryn to help, assuming her closer relationship with Zac might yield answers. But her relationship with Zac had soured, and she informed me that her new venture with a national television show prevented her from pursuing any legal action for at least a year. I was on my own.

I demanded that Zac dissolve my participation in the business and return my funds. His response was vague, promising to return the money once his partner returned from overseas. But days turned into weeks, and I received nothing but silence. Then, instead of the money, I received a cease-and-desist letter — a blatant attempt to intimidate me. My attorney dismissed it as legally invalid, but the damage was done. I realized too late that I should have involved legal counsel from the start.

Desperate, I contacted the Prince George’s County Financial Crimes Division and met with a detective. Lauryn accompanied me, providing proof of her own financial losses. The detective initially suspected she and Zac were working together to scam me, but her evidence showed otherwise. Still, the State’s Attorney’s office couldn’t help; our losses, though significant to us, didn’t meet the threshold for prosecution.

The Aftermath

The full scope of Zac’s betrayal came to light when I discovered another woman who had fallen victim to his schemes. Through social media, I connected with a young lady on Facebook who had also been scammed by Zac. Her story mirrored Lauryn’s — she, too, had trusted him, invested in his ventures, and been left with nothing but broken promises. She had been physically and romantically involved. The end result was a broken heart and $60,000 poorer. Her story was both devastating and validating. We were not alone, but that did little to ease the pain.

In total, I had invested $100,000 — $60,000 in the CBD skincare line and $40,000 in the Moringa Cartel. But the financial loss was just one part of the devastation. The betrayal cut deeper. Lauryn, the sister I had trusted implicitly, had unknowingly led me into the arms of a predator. Zac had exploited her vulnerability, using our friendship as a tool to manipulate and deceive.

I was left with nothing — no money, no business, and no means of contacting Zac. Emails bounced back, texts went unread, and calls went straight to voicemail. I had been swindled out of $100,000, and there was no way to recover it. Heartbroken, Lauryn had lost $50,000 and wanted nothing more to do with the situation.

Lessons Learned

Looking back, the signs were there. But I ignored them, blinded by the desire to support a friend in need and the allure of a promising business opportunity. I’ve since learned the hard way that when something seems too good to be true, it usually is. In the end, I had to come to terms with the trauma of losing everything because I let my desire to help a friend cloud my judgment. I was emotionally invested in Lauryn’s well-being, but I failed to do my due diligence on Zac. I trusted blindly and paid a heavy price.

Conclusion

In the end, the story isn’t just about a lost investment or a failed business venture. It’s about the importance of critical thinking, the danger of blind loyalty, and the painful reality that not everyone who enters your life has good intentions. I was betrayed by a man I barely knew, but also by my own willingness to believe in the impossible.

Let this be a reminder: Protect your dreams but protect your heart and your wallet even more. This experience has left me scarred, but it has also made me wiser. I share this story not to shame myself or Lauryn, but to warn others. In the world of business, and in life, there are those who will prey on your goodwill and ambition. The best defense is vigilance — ask questions, trust your instincts, and never let excitement cloud your judgment.

0 notes

fablesrose · 10 months

Text

Ch 7 - The Fairy Godparents Job

Series Rewrite Masterlist

Pairing: Eliot Spencer x Ford!Reader

Description: Another crooked financial guy, but this time under house arrest. Helping his son into the spotlight must be the play here.

Words: 4768

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nate texted the group chat letting us know that he was meeting with a client and to meet for briefing. I stepped into his apartment to see that Eliot was already in the living room reading a magazine. I greeted him and sat on the far side of the couch, tucking my legs underneath me.

He greeted me with a nod, but nothing more.

Hardison walked in and started showing Eliot a phone sized device that he said was actually a metal detector. He started explaining how it worked, but I didn’t understand much. It was clear that Eliot wasn’t listening.

“Are you even listening?” Hardison asked after stopping mid-spiel.

Eliot looked up from his magazine, “yeah.”

“Well, what did I say?”

“You’re explaining how you’re still a virgin?”

I couldn’t stop the short laugh that escaped me. I noticed it cracked a smile out of Eliot before he turned back to his magazine. Hardison looked at me with betrayal.

“I’m sorry, Hardison, that’s super cool, but I don’t understand what you’re saying… and it was a little funny…”

“Woman-”

Nate walked in with Parker cutting off whatever he was going to rebuff with.

“Talking to clients, you’re supposed to sympathize,” Nate seemed to be explaining to her.

“I told you not to take her,” Eliot said.

“Well, you were right. Where’s Sophie?”

“I don’t know.”

“Well, we’re not waiting,” Nate said as he sat down, “let's go, let’s start.”

Hardison took over researching this mark as I was busy with a project. He told us all about Daniel Fowler, our mark. He posed as a private investor, but just stole people’s money, including our client, a small clinic set to shut down because of him. The whole firm was busted as a Ponzi scheme and the FBI froze all of his assets and put him on house arrest.

“I’m talking corporate accounts, personal accounts, real estate holdings… anything on planet Earth with this dude’s name on it is on ice,” Hardison explained.

“FBI’s very thorough, huh?” Eliot asked.

“Isn’t this going to be a problem for us though?” I asked, “I mean, what are we gonna do if he’s this locked up?”

Hardison had a slight smirk on his face, “Wait for it…” he pointed at Parker.

“What’d they miss?” she asked, humoring him.

“Oh…” a couple of screens came up with a press of a button, “Twenty million dollars. Moved it off the books right before the warrants came down.”

“He knew the end was near and he was getting ready to bolt,” Nate said. “Tell me something, where was Fowler arrested?”

“Oh, in his apartment,” Hardison answered, “packing for his “business trip” to the Maldives.”

Sophie walked in then, but she didn’t look as chipper as she usually did. She didn’t say anything as she walked to the kitchen.

“You see, he’d need it light, portable, close at hand,” Nate thought out loud, “that twenty million is in his apartment.”

“Yeah, but y/n brought up a good point,” Eliot added, “This guy’s on house arrest, man. I mean, he’s practically living with the FBI.”

“The problem is not getting into the apartment,” Sophie interjected, “but getting them out.”

There was a moment of awkwards silence before Nate asked, “where were ya?”

“Oh. I was running an errand,” Sophie stuttered noncommittally.

“Weren’t you with the boyfriend?” Parker asked innocently.

“Parker” I whispered with a pointed look.

She had the grace to look a little guilty.

“So what are the terms of his house arrest?” Sophie changed the subject.

Hardison answered, “Fowler’s confined to his six million dollar penthouse overlooking the Charles River.”

“That’s a rough punishment, huh?” Eliot asked sarcastically.

“The whole place is outfitted with 24/7 surveillance so the Feds can keep an eye on him.” Hardison pointed his remote at the screen, “now… we can too.”

The screen showed a feed of Fowler’s apartment with him lying on the couch. We all smiled at him when he continued.

“I piggybacked the wireless feed.”

“Still,” Sophie sat on the back of the couch behind me, “for us to get in and search the place, we got to get rid of Fowler.”

“Now there are three general exceptions for house arrest,” Nate starts. “There’s personal safety, death of a relative, and family events.”

“Personal safety? We could burn the apartment down,” Eliot suggests.

Parker cheered and volunteered.

“Or death of a relative…” He continued.

Nate disregarded them, “Who is that?”

A kid and a woman crossed the screen.

“Oh, the kid. The kid is from her first marriage, Widmark.”

“I’m sorry what?” I asked him.

“Widmark?” Eliot emphasized.

“Rich people, man,” Hardison replied.

“Can you punch in on that, please?” Nate asked.

Hardison turned up the volume of the screen so we could hear what was being said. We watched as the kid was yelled at for apparently losing a cell phone. The adults stormed off, leaving him alone in the living room.

“Wow, okay. What do we have on the kid?” Nate asked.

Hardison described Widmark. There was nothing particularly exceptional about him, 10 years old, in the fifth grade, no extracurricular activities. The only thing interesting about him on record is that he was allergic to strawberries.

“Judges give out day passes for family events,” Nate reiterated, “it’s one of the three things right? So, Fowler is going to ask for one, so he doesn’t miss out on his kid’s big debut.”

“Wait,” I said, “What is he debuting as?”

Nate thought for a moment, “yeah, I don’t know. But we’re gonna steal his school and find out.”

Hardison was in charge of getting rid of the current principal, which he did quite easily with a couple of plane tickets. Nate was to pose as the new headmaster, with Sophie and Eliot his head teachers of “mind und body.” The parents weren’t too happy at first when they found out, but they were soon pacified enough for them to get to work. Meanwhile, Parker and Hardison were securing an apartment in the same building as the Fowlers so they had easier access to the penthouse.

I hung out in the headmaster’s office while Nate, Sophie, and Eliot spoke to the parents.

“Hardison and Parker are all set, now all we gotta do is give Widmark a triumph worth a day pass,” Nate said, strolling in.

“A triumph? In what?” Sophie asked, looking at his file, “I mean, in five years this kid hasn’t joined a club, he hasn’t played a sport…”

“I gotta be honest with ya, I don’t know how I feel about using the kid to get a mark,” Eliot commented.

“We’re not using him. I mean, every kid is good at something,” Nate insisted. “We just gotta draw Widmark out, give him his moment to shine.”

“Oh, so, we’ll be like his fairy godparents,” Sophie concluded.

“Exactly,” Nate said, “I mean, come one, look at this: cushy private school, no gunrunners, mob bosses, Interpol. This is a breeze!”

“Wait, you guys have dealt with all that before?” I asked, finally speaking up.

Nate nodded at me, “We got one week before the clinic closes for good… Athletics, academics…” he pointed at me, “this should be a good job for you to learn with. I want you to shadow Eliot and Sophie, work on staying in character. Whatever character you choose.” He turned back to address us as a group, “let's go get Widmark the win, alright?”

I followed Eliot first as he had Widmark in his class. He introduced himself to the class before gesturing to me to do the same.

“Hello everyone, you can call me Ms. Jenny. I’m going to be accompanying your class here and there for this upcoming week, let me know if you need anything.” I smiled at all of them, making a particular effort to make eye contact with Widmark.

Eliot directed the class to grab fencing equipment and to put it on before turning to me with a bit of humor, “Ms. Jenny? A little simple… are you even playing a character?”

I stuck my tongue out at him, “I’m working on it. It’s easier to remember than your name Mr… blah blah blah.”

“It’s Mr. Brewer, it’s not that hard.” He smirked at me, “I thought you said you saw the fun of this in Nebraska?”

“I do! It's just…” I bit my lip, “It makes me nervous, too, okay? This is so new and… I’m not sure I know how to do all of this.”

His smirk softened to a smile, “That’s okay, this’ll be a good run for ya. You’ll get the hang of it, but first,” he handed me a fencing sword, “help me teach these guys how to fence.”

He walked away towards the kids, and I followed quickly after, “I don’t know how to do that either.”

Eliot gave a brief demonstration, with me being mostly a prop. It was then time for the kids to try.

“Alright Widmark, get on the line, you’re up.”

Widmark looked around as if Eliot had not just asked him.

“Widmark, come on,” I urged him.

“Get on the line,” Eliot repeated, “Show ‘em what you got, man.”

Widmark went to stand on the line, but a taller boy tripped him. I went to help Widmark up from the floor.

Eliot immediately jumped in, “Hey! Take your helmet off. What’s your name?”

The boy complied, “Skylar Sanford.”

I immediately rolled my eyes at his tone.

“Skylar?” Eliot asked. After the boy affirmed he said, “Is that a boy’s name? Don’t do that again.”

He took Skylar and put him against Widmark on the mat. Widmark had to be directed to put his helmet on, but struggled and put it on backwards.

“Oh, Widmark-” I tried to correct him as the kids started to laugh, but Eliot beat me to it.

“What are you doing?” Eliot asked him after telling the class not to laugh. “There’s girls here. You’re better than that. Turn your hat around.”

Once Widmark did as he was told, Eliot started the match. It did not last long. Skylar quickly overpowered him, the buzzer indicating a hit and point ringing in my ears.

Strike one on helping Widmark.

Next up was Sophie with a spelling bee to prep for the state spelling bee next week. She held a tryout for a competition on Friday for the schools best spellers, plus Widmark. It all seemed to be going well with the words clearly marked in Widmark’s favor. Unfortunately there was one girl that rose to the challenge. Sophie was determined to get her to break, but I could see that it was not happening easily, if at all. I finally had to take a break and stepped out, running into Eliot again.

“What are you doing out here? Thought you were shadowing Sophie?” He asked me.

I leaned against the hallway wall, “I was, but she’s doing a spelling bee and there’s a girl in there spelling words I didn’t even know existed. It’s giving me a headache.”

Eliot sighed, “Another strike?”

I nodded, “Another strike.”

We just looked at each other for a minute causing me to remember something that I had been meaning to talk to him about, but we hadn’t been alone since after the previous job.

“Hey, uh,” I spoke up before he walked away, “I’ve been meaning to… I don’t know. It’s just, after the last job, I mentioned what you did for that kid, it seemed to make you uncomfortable. I just wanted to apologize, I guess.”

He tilted his head at me before he responded, “Oh, uh, no you didn’t do anything wrong. I just wasn’t prepared. I didn’t think anyone heard about that…”

“I don’t think anyone else did, to be honest. I won’t bring stuff up like that again though if you don’t want me to.”

“No, not at all. I’m sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t…” He trailed off, but smiled. “We’re good, sweetheart, don’t worry about it.”

The bell rang and kids started to flow out into the hallway. He nodded his head down the hallway signaling that he had to go and I waved him off. I went to join Sophie in the auditorium when I heard her talking with Widmark.

“I try hard, all the time,” Widmark said, “but, no matter how much I want something, it never happens.”

“Oh sweetie,” Sophie replied, “What do you want?”

“I don’t know… I just,” Widmark frowned, “I want someone to like me. Does that get easier when you’re a grownup?”

I shook my head no, just to myself when Sophie answered him.

“Um, no. I don’t think it does.”

“You’re nice,” Widmark said, “but weird.”

Sophie shewed him off to class and he walked by me, “bye Ms. Jenny.”

“Bye Widmark,” I smiled at him as he walked off. I looked at Sophie once he left, and sighed.

This may be harder than we thought.

We met back up at Nate’s apartment this time, but I had snacks from mine, which I thought was needed in this situation. Hardison and Parker recounted their experience setting up equipment at the Fowler’s place.

“Let me just, can I get this straight?” Nate started, pacing around my kitchen, “Ok, alright, you two, you couldn’t rig a gym class and a spelling bee.” He turned towards Hardison and Parker, “and you two, you ran into the only FBI agents on the planet that recognize you?” He turned towards me, “what did you do?”

I raised my hands, full of chips, “I’m just shadowing.”

“I gotta be honest with you,” Eliot said, “I think we broke the kid even more.”

“We are the worst fairy godparents in the world!” Sophie exclaimed, dropping her spoon in her cup.

“Listen, we’ve still got to get Fowler out of the apartment so we can get in.”

“Yeah, except now, when he leaves there’ll be somebody waiting to kill him.”

“Can’t we use that? Isn’t that personal safety or whatever?” I asked, my mouth full.

“No,” Nate replied.

“Man, one of his victims wants payback more than he wants to be paid back,” Hardison said.

“Well, one of you two can identify the gunman, right?” Eliot asked.

“Yeah, sure. He stopped and let me take a picture of him as I was chasing him.”

“You know what? I’ve been around little kids all day, I don’t need to come home and do all this crap.”

“I’ve been in this pink shirt and these tight plaid pants, these old Webster loafers, this girl walking on my back…” Hardison went on as Parker handed Eliot her sketch pad.

“Is this the guy?” he asked, and I walked over to look at the drawing.

She hummed an affirmative.

The drawing was very detailed showing the face of a man, dark hair, slightly sunken eyes, drawn with a pen.

“See?” Eliot tossed the pad at Hardison.

“I didn’t know you could do that,” Hardison remarked.

“I thought everyone could do that,” Parker replied.

I shook my head, “No Parker, not everyone can do that, that’s some talent you have there.”

She smiled at me proudly before Nate continued.

“Okay, alright, keep an eye on him. In the meantime, if they think you’re real FBI, be real FBI. I mean, use it to case the apartment.”

“So, I’m out of this and I’m on FBI detail with Parker and Hardison then,” Eliot concluded.

“Actually, no. I need you to be Coach Brewer.”

“There’s an armed gunman out there,” Eliot insisted, “you want me in the gym with kids named Skylar and Indigo?”

“Where did Coach Brewer go?” Nate raised the question.

“Shut up,” Sophie said, urging us to listen to the surveillance feed on the TVs.

Widmark was singing to himself, and was doing a pretty good job.

“The play’s the thing wherein I’ll catch the conscience of a king,” Sophie said, excitedly. I assumed she was quoting something, but I didn’t ask.

We all looked at each other for a moment before Nate smiled, “Sophie, how long would it take you to stage a musical?”

“Six weeks,” she answered.

“You have two days.”

I watched as the next day, Sophie lined up the kids, and instructed them to sing their science fair projects. When Widmark went, he wasn’t too bad, but his project was about mold, so kind of gross. Sophie encouraged him, and insisted he sing in the finale.

I smiled at him from the auditorium seats, and he had a slight smile himself.

The parents were outraged that this kid, this child, was to be in the starring role when his father had done so much to all of the parents, ripping them off. Nate explained them away, saying it was based on merit, and that his father should have nothing to do with it. He was right of course, it angered me that he had to explain that at all. This poor kid.

“Could you just please try to maybe not make this so difficult?” Nate asked Sophie.

“I can’t take you seriously with that dead cat on your head” Sophie replied.

Nate looked at me before he sat down next to her, but I only shrugged in agreement, his hair was atrocious.

“Eliot had trouble adjusting, alright, but he found a way to make his style work in this setting.”

I recalled the last class I watched him in, he had changed from private school style athletics to combat. He was enjoying it more than he let on.

“Look,” Sophie replied, “it’s the best I could manage under such short notice. The props are made, the kids have memorized their presentations, I’m just setting it to a bit of music.”

“Listen, I mean, let’s not forget why we’re here. Let’s not lose focus. The object is to get Fowler out of his apartment, not…”

“What, not Widmark, right? He’s just the bait.”

“Well that’s not fair.”

“You’re right Nate,” I cut in, “it’s not fair. It’s not fair to Widmark, this whole situation isn’t fair to him. The way people see him? His dad thinks he’s a loser, his mom sees him like a little baby, his classmates see him as the kid whose dad is the Grinch, who took everything. He…”

Sophie finished for me, “we just want people to see him as he really is.”

“He deserves that,” I added, “Everyone deserves that.”

The night of the musical was not going as smoothly as we had hoped. Hardison was going to be the one breaking into the apartment instead of Parker because of an FBI agent with a crush, and Widmark wasn’t on his musical game. I was helping direct kids to setting up, but I was getting nervous. It all came to a head when Sophie said she couldn’t find Widmark at all. I abandoned my post to help her look.

We finally found him in the bathroom, crying to himself.

“Widmark, you can’t let them win,” Sophie told him, “you can’t show them they’re getting to you.”

Nate spoke through the comms, “Sophie, no. Just talk to him, don’t tell him what to do or who to be. Just talk.”

Sophie lost her American accent, “I’m sorry Widmark.”

“For what?” He asked.

“For trying to con you into being brave. That’s what I do, I’m a bloody con artist. Look, I’m not very good at being honest, not even with my friends.”

Widmark finally came out of the stall and looked between us, “Do you have a lot of friends?”

“No,” we both responded.

I leaned against the sink and looked at him, “Can I tell you a secret Widmark?”

He nodded.

“When I was around your age, I was kind of like you, nobody really liked me, didn’t have any friends. You know who I was in school?”

He shook his head.

I looked at my feet before looking back at him, “I was the kid whose parents died, and that made me the weird one. Luckily that doesn’t mean anything anymore, and we have a few friends now.”

“I used to have friends,” Widmark said, “They don’t talk to me anymore, because of what my stepdad did.”

“That’s got nothing to do with you, you know that, don’t you?” Sophie asked him.

“Then why do they make fun of me?”

“Cause when they look at you, they see him. Just like they only saw my dead parents,” I responded.

“They’re not seeing you for who you really are,” Sophie responded.

Hardison and Parker were talking on comms, trying to get Hardison broken in and past the security, but I quickly tuned them out.

“Did you know I was an actress?” Sophie asked Widmark.

“No, are you good?” he asked.

She hummed, “Well, others don’t seem to think so.”

“Maybe they just can’t see you for who you are,” he concluded.

I kept quiet, thinking that I had my moment, she could have hers.

“You know what they say about acting? They say it’s about telling the truth, about sharing a little part of yourself that people don’t normally see. But, if you don’t- if you don’t really know yourself, then they think you’re lying… I think that’s my problem.”

I reached out and took her hand, comforting her for being vulnerable.

“I’ve been lying for so long that… I don’t even know what the truth is anymore.”

“I don’t want to lie to anybody,” Widmark said.

I laughed a little bit, “No, you don’t Widmark.”

Sophie stood and approached him, “You don’t have to Widmark. What you need to do is you just have to go out there, and be Widmark. Just tell the truth, be who you really are. If you can do that, then I promise you, people will believe in you.”

“Just like we believe in you.” I smiled at him as Sophie and I both exited the bathroom.

We rendezvoused with Eliot backstage.

“Widmark okay?”

“Guess we’re about to find out,” Sophie answered.

The lights dimmed in the auditorium, signaling the show was about to start. Hardison told us on comms that the safe he cracked was empty, cleaned out, giving us a problem, where was the money?

“Hate to tell you this, but that ain’t our biggest problem right now,” Eliot replied.

I turned to him, “What do you mean?”

He pulled me closer to where he was standing and subtly pointed to where he was looking. Above the auditorium stood a man who looked awfully like the drawing Parker made.

“We got company,” Eliot said. “How’d he know Fowler was gonna be here? Only ones who knew were us and the FBI.”

“Yeah, and Fowler himself,” Nate said. “Maybe we were wrong, maybe Fowler isn’t the target.”

“Then who?” Parker asked, then had to recover as she was still technically talking to the FBI agent.

“His FBI handlers. Fowler arranged to have them killed. He’s about to run,” Nate concluded.

“No man,” Hardison rebuffed, “there’s no way he could arrange that. He’s under house arrest. No phone calls, no internet, they’re even reading his mail. How could he arrange a hitman?”

“Let’s ask him,” Eliot answered. He was tracking his movements in the rafters, and pointed me over to Sophie to be a bit out of the way which I obliged.

“Feds confiscated his cell phone,” Hardison said, “They didn’t take Widmarks.”

“Really?” I asked, “What a jerk, he yelled at Widmark for losing that… Can Eliot punch Fowler when this is over? Can I?”

“No,” Nate replied.

“Maybe,” Eliot responded.

“Fowler’s getaway explains the empty safe,” Nate continued, ignoring us, “whatever cash he had on him, he took with him. And… I think I know where to look.”

“Wait,” Parker interjected, “Didn’t you search Fowler before he left?” She asked the agent.

“Of course, nothing on him except for that camera and some tapes.”

“Yeah, well there’s something in that bag, or on those tapes,” Nate insisted. “Sophie, y/n, can you swipe it?”

Sophie was on stage, “yes, I’m a little bit busy here.”

“You want me to do what?” I asked, I was still backstage where it was loud and I couldn’t believe what he was asking me, “I’m making my way to you.”

“Has anybody seen Widmark?” Sophie asked.

“Sophie, the job’s over,” Nate said. “What happens from here on is not our concern. We have other priorities”

“No way, no, no. The clinic isn’t the only victim here, I didn’t prop up this boy, just to see him fail. No way. I’m not letting that happen.”

Eliot engaged with the hitman and I tried to ignore the commotion in my ear.

“Uh, Nate?” Hardison said, “This phone has sent a bunch of text messages in the last forty-eight hours to some guy named Skylar.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Skylar’s a kid at this school.”

“Why would Fowler be texting a middle schooler?”

I made my way around the auditorium and stood beside Nate, “what do you want me to do?”

He held his hand up, “Nothing now.” He was looking in the audience, specifically at Skylar’s dad, “he wasn’t texting Skylar, he was texting Skylar’s dad.”

I watched as the man in question walked up towards the stage with a camera. He stumbled and picked up the camera bag next to Fowler, dropping his own.

“Mark Sanford’s an accomplice,” Nate said, “He set up the gunman. He just traded bags with Fowler.”

Hardison wasn’t having it, “No, man. Why would Sanford help Fowler? Isn’t he one of the guys who invested with him?”

I heard Widmark over the comms, “sorry I’m late.”

Sophie responded before putting him on stage, “no, no, you’re right on time.”

Eliot was still fighting the gunman backstage of which Sophie wasn’t happy about.

“Keep it off the stage, you’re gonna ruin his big finale!”

I laughed to myself as I could almost hear Eliot’s eyeroll.

Nate turned to me after Widmark finished his song, of which he did quite well in, and everyone was distracted by the standing ovation, “Wait here.” He walked down the aisle and grabbed the bag by Fowler with the hook of his cane before returning to me.

We turned the corner before opening the bag.

“Ah,” Nate said, looking inside, “Hardison, are you near your computer? I need you to check a name for me.”

“Go ahead.”

“Doug Fineman” Nate said as he opened up a passport from the bag, it had Fowler’s face, but clearly not his name. “Sanford is providing Fowler with a new identity, and a new life waiting for him in…”

I looked over his shoulder, “Bogota?”

Eliot and Sophie grabbed Sanford and took the bag that was previously Fowler’s. Sophie seemed to find something she liked in it and placed it in a tape player, playing it through the entire auditorium.

Out came Sanford’s voice, “I’m just saying you can’t make the returns too consistent. Ten percent growth every year, no matter what the market does? The SEC is going to ask questions.”

Then Fowler replied on tape, “Let me worry about the SEC work.”

“But we have to be careful.”

“My job is to buy off the regulators, your job is to bring in new money. Now this whole thing goes off the rails when you stop doing your job!”

By now Fowler was trying to run through the crowd away from the FBI handlers in the audience. I took the opportunity to step in front of him with my foot outstretched a bit further than necessary, effectively tripping him.

“Oh, Mr. Fowler I’m so sorry,” I apologized with an overt sweetness as the agent handcuffed him.

“Where do you think you’re going?” the agent asked him.

Nate approached from behind me with the bag, offering it to the agent, “ja, ja… He dropped this. All of this. I thought his name was Fowler. I don’t know.”

Once the agent took it Nate shrugged and took my arm guiding me away with the illusion of me helping him walk along with his cane.

It sounded like backstage was taken care of with Sandford as the other agent arrested him. The agent made an attempt at flirting with Parker again while doing so, which made me smile. He was cute, I’d give him that, but the things he doesn’t know, especially about Parker, and a certain hacker…

The clinic stayed open, to everyone’s pleasure. I heard that Fowler’s wife and Widmark even worked there. Hopefully he had a better life ahead of him.

Tags: @isoldeahlstrom @kniselle

#eliot spencer x reader #eliot spencer #leverage #rewrite #slow burn #multichapter #nate ford #sophie devereaux #alec hardison #parker #ford!reader

30 notes · View notes