Chapter 8 - THE SIGNATURE THAT WASN’T MINE
The signature looked like mine.
That was the worst part.
Same E.
Same long loop in the y.
Same slight upward angle I had used since high school.
But I had never signed it.
Thomas printed the recorded document.
Grantee:
Chloe Bennett.
Grantor:
Evelyn Bennett.
Notarized two days earlier.
I stared at Chloe.
She looked more horrified than I felt.
“I didn’t know.”
Dad said:
“This can be corrected.”
I turned toward him.
“You knew?”
“No.”
“You knew something.”
“I knew paperwork was being prepared.”
“By who?”
He hesitated.
Thomas answered.
“Northbridge.”
Dad shot him a furious look.
My stomach tightened.
“You sent them my signature?”
“No.”
“Then how did they get it?”
Nora spoke from the kitchen table.
“Grandpa has lots of Mom’s signatures.”
Everyone turned.
She looked uncomfortable.
“He keeps old tax papers in Grandma’s office.”
Of course.
Years of forms.
Refinance records.
Insurance documents.
My father had hundreds of samples.
Thomas called his attorney immediately.
Forgery could invalidate the transfer.
But we needed to act fast.
A fraudulent deed still creates problems until a court removes it.
Then the attorney noticed something else.
The notary.
Patricia Wells.
Mom gasped.
I knew the name too.
Dad’s longtime office manager before he retired.
“She notarized it?”
Dad said:
“Patricia must have misunderstood.”
Thomas laughed.
“People misunderstand coffee orders. They don’t accidentally notarize forged deeds.”
Chloe suddenly stood.
“I’m calling her.”
Dad grabbed her wrist.
“No.”
Every person in the room froze.
Chloe stared at his hand.
“Let go.”
He did.
Slowly.
But the damage was done.
She stepped away from him.
For the first time in her life, my sister looked at Dad the way I had for years.
Not as authority.
As danger.
She dialed Patricia.
Speakerphone.
Three rings.
“Hello?”
Chloe said:
“Patricia, did you notarize a deed transferring Evelyn’s house to me?”
Silence.
Then:
“Chloe?”
“Yes.”
Another pause.
“You need to talk to your father.”
Dad shook his head.
Chloe ignored him.
“Did you see Evelyn sign it?”
Patricia began crying.
My heart pounded.
“No.”
Dad closed his eyes.
“Who gave it to you?”
“Robert.”
Mom whispered:
“Oh my God.”
Patricia continued.
“He said Evelyn had already agreed and was working a double shift. He said the signature had been witnessed earlier.”
Thomas asked:
“Did you verify her identity?”
“No.”
“Did you enter it into your notary log?”
“Yes.”
Dad whispered:
“Hang up.”
Nobody listened.
Chloe asked:
“Why would you do that?”
Patricia sobbed.
“Because your father said Northbridge would take his retirement house if the deed wasn’t filed.”
Mom turned toward Dad.
“Our house?”
Dad said nothing.
Patricia continued:
“He said Evelyn had agreed to help.”
I felt strangely calm now.
There is a point where betrayal becomes so large that panic is replaced by clarity.
Then Patricia said:
“There’s something else.”
Thomas leaned closer.
“What?”
“Robert didn’t bring only one deed.”
Dad lunged for the phone.
Thomas blocked him.
Patricia continued:
“There were three.”
I stared at my father.
“What other properties?”
Patricia whispered:
“One was Eleanor’s house.”
Mom made a strangled sound.
“And the third?”
Patricia hesitated.
Then said:
“A commercial lot registered to Nora Bennett.”
My daughter’s face went blank.
I stood so fast the chair fell.
“Nora is eleven.”
May you like
Thomas looked at Dad.
And for the first time, my father actually looked afraid of me.
