Chapter 3 - MY SISTER CAME TO MY OFFICE CRYING
Jenna arrived at Carlisle Medical the next morning crying so hard security thought someone had died.
Nobody had.
Unless you counted her sense of entitlement.
She was escorted upstairs because I authorized it.
Not because I wanted family drama at work.
Because my attorney was already present.
Jenna entered my office carrying a designer purse I recognized.
I had bought it for her thirtieth birthday.
She dropped into a chair.
“What are you doing?”
Mr. Hale sat silently near the window.
I remained behind my desk.
“Good morning.”
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Talk like I’m an employee.”
“You came to my office.”
She wiped her face.
“Mom says you’re accusing us of fraud.”
“No.”
Her shoulders relaxed.
Then I continued.
“The bank’s fraud department will determine that.”
She stared.
“You reported the loan?”
“Yes.”
“You’re insane.”
“No. I finally read it.”
“Emily.”
She leaned forward.
“If that loan gets investigated, our closing could be challenged.”
“Your house closed six months ago.”
“The bridge financing is still open.”
Interesting.
“What bridge financing?”
Her eyes shifted.
I looked at Hale.
He was already taking notes.
“Jenna.”
She snapped:
“This is exactly why nobody tells you things.”
I laughed.
“That sentence is doing a lot of work today.”
She stood.
“You don’t understand what it’s like.”
“What?”
“To have a family.”
I stared.
“I have a family.”
“No.”
She shook her head.
“You have a career.”
That hurt more than I expected.
Not because it was true.
Because it was exactly how they justified everything.
I didn’t have children.
Jenna planned to.
Therefore, Jenna’s future counted more.
I had a strong income.
Therefore, my money became communal.
I had no husband.
Therefore, nobody had to protect my future.
“You think because I’m single, my life is less real.”
“That isn’t what I said.”
“It’s exactly what you said.”
She rolled her eyes.
“Stop turning everything into trauma.”
I almost smiled.
“You came here crying.”
She sat again.
Mr. Hale spoke for the first time.
“Jenna, were you aware that the $110,000 transferred toward your property purchase came from a loan secured against trust property?”
She looked at him.
“I knew Mom borrowed money.”
“From what asset?”
“The family house.”
“Did you know your parents did not legally own the house?”
Silence.
Hale waited.
Jenna looked at me.
“You let them live there.”
“That isn’t ownership.”
“Grandpa wanted them to have it.”
“No.”
“He did.”
“Have you read the trust?”
“Normal people don’t read family trust documents.”
Mr. Hale almost smiled.
I didn’t.
“What did Mom tell you?”
Jenna crossed her arms.
“That Grandpa left the house to Mom and Dad but made you trustee because you were ‘good with paperwork.’”
There it was.
Mom had rewritten Grandpa’s will into something emotionally convenient.
“The trust owns the property.”
Jenna said nothing.
“My job is to protect it.”
“From your own parents?”
“If necessary.”
“You sound disgusting.”
I absorbed that.
Then Hale slid a document toward her.
“Do you recognize this?”
The trustee authorization.
My forged signature.
Jenna looked at it.
Her face changed.
“I’ve never seen that.”
“Did your mother ever ask you to sign Emily’s name?”
“No.”
“Did she ask you for copies of Emily’s identification?”
Jenna froze.
My stomach tightened.
“What?”
Hale leaned forward.
“Answer.”
Jenna’s eyes moved toward me.
“Two years ago, Mom asked me for a scan of your driver’s license.”
My pulse slowed.
“Why did you have one?”
“You sent it when we booked the Bahamas trip.”
I remembered.
Group reservation.
Rental car.
I had texted Jenna a photo of my license.
“What did Mom say she needed it for?”
“Insurance paperwork.”
Hale wrote something.
“Did you send it?”
“Yes.”
I stared.
Jenna’s face went pale.
“I didn’t know.”
For the first time, I believed her.
At least about that.
“What else?”
She shook her head.
“Nothing.”
“Jenna.”
She began crying again.
Not angry crying.
Fear.
“Mom made me sign a letter.”
“What letter?”
“She said the bank needed confirmation that the family agreed to the house refinancing.”
My stomach dropped.
“You signed?”
“Yes.”
“As what?”
“I don’t know.”
Mr. Hale said:
“You signed something without reading it?”
She glared.
“Everybody does that.”
“No,” I said.
“They don’t.”
She covered her face.
“I thought Mom handled everything.”
Of course she did.
Mom handled everything.
Dad avoided everything.
I funded everything.
Jenna accepted everything.
A perfect system.
Until one person said no.
Then Hale’s phone vibrated.
He checked it.
His expression changed.
“What?”
“The bank sent the original closing package.”
“And?”
He turned his laptop toward us.
There were three affidavits.
One supposedly signed by me.
One by Mom.
One by Jenna.
Jenna leaned closer.
Her face drained.
“That isn’t what I signed.”
“What do you mean?”
“My signature is real.”
She pointed.
“But the page isn’t.”
The affidavit stated Jenna personally witnessed me authorize the lien.
She looked at me.
“I never saw you sign anything.”
Hale’s jaw tightened.
“Your signature may have been transferred onto another document.”
Jenna stopped crying.
The reality was finally catching up.
“Mom did this?”
I said nothing.
Hale continued flipping through pages.
Then stopped.
“There’s another problem.”
“What?”
“The loan proceeds did not all go to Jenna.”
I stared.
“How much didn’t?”
“About $96,000.”
“Where?”
He opened the wire ledger.
Recipient:
WILLOW CREEK CONSULTING LLC.
Jenna frowned.
“What is that?”
I didn’t know.
But my mother did.
Because the registered mailing address was one I recognized immediately.
A post office box Mom had used for her old antiques business fifteen years earlier.
I looked at Jenna.
“Do you still think this is about me being selfish?”
She stared at the screen.
Then whispered:
“No.”
My phone rang.
Dad.
I answered.
His voice was shaking.
“Emily.”
“What?”
“I found something in your mother’s desk.”
“What?”
“A second mortgage application.”
My stomach tightened.
“For the house?”
“No.”
He breathed.
“For your grandfather’s lake property.”
I stood.
“What lake property?”
Dad went silent.
May you like
Then said:
“Exactly.”
