Chapter 2 - THE SIGNATURE UNDER THE DEED
Daniel read the deed three times.
“This can’t be real.”
Lorraine leaned against the doorway as though we were discussing wallpaper.
“It’s real.”
I looked at her.
“You forged my signature.”
“No.”
“The document says I transferred one-third of my house to you.”
“You signed papers.”
“When?”
“Two months ago.”
“No.”
She smiled.
“You sign things constantly.”
My stomach turned.
Two months earlier, Daniel had asked me to sign insurance renewal documents at the kitchen table while I was getting ready for work.
Three signature lines.
I barely looked.
Had one been something else?
I called the county recorder.
The deed had been notarized.
Notary:
Marissa Doyle.
Trevor’s girlfriend.
I closed my eyes.
Of course.
She had come over twice during the first week they moved in.
Always “just for dinner.”
Apparently dinner came with document services.
Daniel whispered:
“Mom, what did you do?”
Lorraine’s confidence finally cracked.
“I protected myself.”
“From what?”
“From being thrown out whenever Rachel gets angry.”
I stared at her.
“You came for two weeks.”
“Things changed.”
“No. You changed the agreement.”
Trevor crossed his arms.
“You have three bedrooms.”
“That is irrelevant.”
“You make more than Daniel.”
Also irrelevant.
“You have a huge house.”
Still irrelevant.
Lorraine raised her voice.
“Family does not abandon family.”
I almost laughed.
“Family also does not forge deeds.”
She flinched.
Good.
Then I called an attorney.
Not Daniel’s friend.
Not anyone connected to his family.
Maya Chen had handled the purchase when I bought the house before marrying Daniel.
Yes.
Before.
The down payment came from me.
The mortgage remained mostly mine.
Daniel had later been added to title when we refinanced after marriage.
Fifty percent me.
Fifty percent Daniel.
At least until the fraudulent deed.
Maya listened.
Then said:
“Do not destroy anything.”
The hammer lay on the counter.
I looked at it.
Too late for the padlock.
But not documents.
“Photograph the deed, envelopes, mail, and room exactly as found.”
I did.
Then she asked:
“Is Lorraine claiming she lives there permanently?”
“Yes.”
“She may still have occupancy rights depending on facts, but ownership is different. A forged deed does not become valid merely because it was recorded.”
Relief.
Then:
“We need the original notarization log.”
Marissa.
Trevor’s girlfriend.
Maya continued:
“And Rachel, if there is identity theft tied to a loan, file a police report.”
The irony almost made me choke.
Lorraine had turned my refrigerator into a dictatorship.
Now I was calling police because someone had used my identity for nearly fifty thousand dollars.
Trevor looked uncomfortable when I said it.
Very uncomfortable.
Daniel noticed too.
“Trevor.”
“What?”
“Did you do the loan?”
“No.”
“Look at me.”
“I said no.”
Then his phone buzzed.
He snatched it off the desk.
Too fast.
I held out my hand.
“No.”
He laughed.
“You’re not taking my phone.”
“I don’t need to.”
I looked at Daniel.
“Ask him where the money was supposed to go.”
Daniel did.
Trevor’s face hardened.
Then Lorraine said:
“This interrogation is over.”
Interesting.
Not:
He didn’t do it.
Over.
I photographed the prepaid number on the loan file and sent it to Maya.
Then I opened the mobile carrier records available through a reverse lookup service.
The number had no public subscriber.
But the recovery email linked to the loan application had a familiar fragment.
tmerc...
Trevor Mercer.
My stomach dropped.
Daniel saw it too.
“You idiot.”
Trevor exploded.
“You don’t know what happened!”
That was as close to a confession as I needed emotionally.
Legally, we would verify.
“What happened?”
He paced.
“I needed money.”
“For what?”
“Business.”
“What business?”
No answer.
Then Lorraine said:
“He had an opportunity.”
Daniel looked at her.
“You knew?”
She said nothing.
Of course she knew.
Then Trevor finally snapped:
“It wasn’t even supposed to hurt her! I was going to pay it back before she noticed.”
I stared at him.
“You applied for forty-eight thousand dollars in my name.”
“You have good credit.”
That sentence ended whatever remained of my restraint.
I pointed toward the hallway.
“Leave.”
Lorraine stepped forward.
“We own part of this house now.”
“No.”
I lifted the deed.
“You possess a recorded piece of fraud.”
Then Daniel said the last thing I expected.
“Rachel, I knew about the deed.”
The room became silent.
May you like
My husband had not forged my signature.
But he had known his mother intended to put herself on my house.
