Chapter 4 - The Envelope

I took the envelope before Ryan could reach it.

“Claire.”

I tore it open.

Inside were copies of three documents.

The first looked like a property transfer agreement.

The second was a spousal consent form.

The third was a signature page.

My signature appeared at the bottom.

Except I had never signed it.

My hands stopped shaking.

Fear vanished completely.

“What is this?”

Ryan rubbed both palms over his face. “It’s not what you think.”

“That’s my signature.”

“You signed a stack of closing papers last spring.”

“Not this.”

Grant folded his arms. “You don’t remember every paper you sign.”

I looked at him. “I remember transferring a twelve-million-dollar property.”

Diane gasped.

Apparently no one had told her the real number.

Brooke looked from me to Ryan. “Twelve million?”

Ryan snapped, “This isn’t your business.”

“No,” I said. “It’s mine.”

The transfer document claimed Mercer Heights Holdings had assigned controlling interest to a company called RGH Residential Partners.

R. G. H.

Ryan.

Grant.

Hart.

I felt sick.

Not because the document looked convincing.

Because somebody had planned this carefully.

“You forged me.”

Ryan’s face twisted. “I protected us.”

“By forging my signature?”

“You were talking about a postnup.”

“I asked for a postnup after you charged eighty-four thousand dollars to my corporate card.”

“You humiliated me.”

“So you tried to take my home?”

Grant stepped forward. “Our home.”

I looked at him. “You don’t live here.”

“We are family.”

“You are a guest who just ordered the owner out.”

For one second nobody moved.

Then Brooke’s phone chimed.

She looked at the screen and went white.

“What?” Diane asked.

Brooke swallowed. “There’s someone downstairs.”

Ryan’s head snapped toward her.

“Who?”

She turned the phone so we could see the building app.

Visitor requesting access: MARTIN KESSLER.

My attorney.

Ryan stared at me.

I stared back.

“I didn’t call him,” I said.

Martin’s message appeared beneath the request.

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CLAIRE, DO NOT SIGN ANYTHING. I FOUND THE FILING.

The House He Thought Was His