Chapter 8 - A Signature I Never Made
A recorded deed said I had purchased the trust's property for ten dollars and 'other valuable consideration.' My name stood beside a signature that looked close enough to mine to fool a busy clerk.
"I didn't sign this," I said.
The judge called the case back. Gabriel asked that the order be expanded to bar any further transfer while the authenticity of the signature was investigated. My father watched from the back, face perfectly still.
Afterward, he intercepted me beside the elevators.
"What happened today can be corrected," he said.
"By telling the truth?"
"By thinking about your family before you think about strangers."
"Those strangers paid into your foundation."
"They paid because of my name."
Gabriel approached and Dad lowered his voice. "You should ask Ward why Eleanor fired him."
"She didn't," Gabriel said.
"Didn't she? Show Sophie the last letter."
For once, Gabriel had no immediate comeback.
Dad smiled. "See? Everybody has secrets."
At Gabriel's office, I demanded the letter. He showed it to me without argument. Grandma had written that she no longer wanted him contacting her directly. The date was two weeks before her death.
"You told me she trusted you," I said.
"She did."
"Then why did she cut you off?"
"I don't know. A nurse told me her phone had been taken away. I tried visiting. Richard had me removed."
"You didn't tell me."
"I should have."
I hated how easy it would be to stop believing everyone. But Gabriel had brought the document himself, and my father had hidden it until it could wound me.
"I need the original letter," I said. "And your complete file. I won't fight lies with half a truth."
He handed me a secure drive. "Agreed."
That afternoon, a forensic document examiner compared the deed with my known signatures. Her preliminary opinion was cautious: multiple features suggested simulation rather than natural handwriting. It wasn't proof of who had done it, but it was enough for our lawyer to request an evidentiary hearing.
At six, Evan came to Talia's apartment carrying a thick folder. His tie was loose, and he looked as though he'd aged ten years.
"I asked Claire for everything," he said. "She gave me this and told me to leave."
May you like
Inside were bank statements, a draft redevelopment plan, and a photograph taken on the night the trust deed was signed. In it, Claire stood beside Martin Pike outside a notary's office.
But the hand holding the signed document belonged to my mother.
