Robert would not look at me.
Patrice no longer appeared cornered. For the first time since I had shown everyone the photographs, she seemed almost satisfied.
She had been waiting for his secret to surface.
“Susan contacted you first,” I repeated.
Robert nodded.
“When?”
“About three months ago.”
“Why?”
He rubbed his hands over his face.
“She said Patrice had mentioned you were living alone.”
Patrice laughed under her breath.
Robert shot her a look.
“She said families should prepare before something happens.”
“What kind of something?”
“An illness. An accident. Anything that might leave you needing help.”
“That still doesn’t explain why you called my bank.”
“I know.”
“Then don’t stop halfway.”
He sat down.
For the first time in years, my son looked less like a middle-aged father and more like the boy who used to sit at our kitchen table after breaking something, hoping confession might somehow reduce the damage.
“Susan started asking questions.”
“What questions?”
“Whether your house was paid off.”
I felt my jaw tighten.
“And you answered?”
“Yes.”
“What else?”
“She asked what it might be worth.”
“Did you know?”
“I looked it up.”
“Why?”
He stared at the floor.
“I was worried about money.”
Patrice’s expression shifted.
Apparently, even she did not know everything.
Robert continued.
“Our mortgage payment increased. David’s school expenses went up. Sophie needs orthodontic work.”
“Those are your responsibilities.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
His face tightened.
Then he said, “I have credit-card debt.”
Patrice turned toward him.
“How much?”
He ignored her.
She stepped closer.
“How much, Robert?”
“Almost thirty thousand.”
Her mouth fell open.
“You told me eight.”
“I thought I could fix it.”
“By lying?”
Robert looked at her.
“You want to discuss lying now?”
“I didn’t hide twenty thousand dollars.”
“No. You hid legal papers about my mother.”
“I learned about those papers because you started talking to Susan.”
Robert looked back at me.
“I did start it.”
The admission quieted everyone.
He did not try to blame Patrice.
That mattered, although not enough.
“Susan told me there were ways to organize things if you eventually downsized.”
“Downsized.”
“Sold the house.”
There it was.
My home had become a financial concept before anyone bothered to ask whether I wanted to leave it.
“What would happen to the money?”
“It could be managed.”
“By whom?”
He hesitated.
“Me.”
I nodded slowly.
“And then?”
“I could pay your expenses.”
“Only mine?”
His silence answered.
“How much were you planning to use?”
“Mom—”
“How much?”
He swallowed.
“Fifty thousand.”
Patrice laughed.
“Seventy-five.”
Robert turned sharply.
“What?”
She looked away.
“You said fifty would cover everything.”
“It would cover your debt.”
“What else was seventy-five for?”
“Nothing.”
Karen moved near the hallway.
Her face had become pale.
I noticed.
So did Robert.
“What else?” he asked Patrice.
“Nothing.”
Karen whispered, “The business.”
Patrice spun around.
“Mom.”
Robert frowned.
“What business?”
Karen looked horrified by her own words.
“I thought she told you.”
Patrice crossed the room.
“Stop.”
Robert stepped between them.
“What business?”
Karen’s eyes filled with tears.
“Patrice wanted to invest with Susan.”
Robert stared at his wife.
“In what?”
“A wellness studio,” Karen said.
Patrice closed her eyes.
“How much?” Robert asked.
Nobody answered.
“How much?”
Karen whispered, “Sixty thousand.”
Robert looked as though someone had struck him.
“You were planning to use sixty thousand dollars of Mom’s money?”
“It was going to be a loan.”
“Did she agree to loan it?”
“She would have.”
The room went still.
I stepped toward Patrice.
“She would have?”
“I mean after we explained.”
“No. You mean after I signed.”
Patrice said nothing.
Robert began pacing.
“You were going to invest Mom’s money in a business without even telling me?”
“You were already willing to borrow from her.”
“Fifty thousand to clear debt is not the same as—”
I cut him off.
“Yes, it is.”
He stopped.
I looked at both of them.
“You are arguing over whose reason for taking my money was more respectable.”
Neither answered.
“That is what this has become.”
Robert sat down again.
I could see shame in his face.
Patrice still looked defensive.
I turned to him.
“Did you sign anything?”
“No.”
“Did you give Susan copies of my financial statements?”
“No.”
“My bank account numbers?”
“No.”
“Tax records?”
“No.”
“Social Security number?”
His expression changed.
I felt my stomach drop.
“Robert.”
He looked at me.
“I thought she needed it.”
“For what?”
“To check what kind of planning documents would apply.”
“You gave someone my Social Security number?”
“She’s Patrice’s cousin.”
“That is not an answer.”
“I trusted her.”
“You gave her the number people use to establish my identity.”
His eyes filled.
“I didn’t think—”
“No. You didn’t.”
For the first time since the conversation began, my voice rose.
“You looked up the value of my house. You discussed selling it. You contacted my bank. You gave another person my private information. At what point were you planning to include me in the planning of my own life?”
He had no answer.
I forced myself to breathe.
“What else did you give Susan?”
“My birth date?”
He nodded.
“Address?”
Another nod.
“Anything containing my signature?”
“No.”
He answered quickly.
“I swear.”
My phone rang.
Daniel again.
I walked toward the kitchen.
“Please tell me you found something reassuring.”
“I found something important.”
I leaned against the counter.
“The law office listed on that transfer document returned my call.”
“And?”
“They did not prepare it.”
I frowned.
“Their name is printed on it.”
“Someone copied their formatting.”
A chill moved across my shoulders.
“Can they identify who?”
“Not yet.”
I looked toward the living room.
Patrice and Robert were watching me.
Daniel continued.
“I also spoke with the fraud department at your bank.”
“What did they find?”
“There was an attempt to access your account online five days ago.”
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“Was anything taken?”
“No. The attempt failed.”
I closed my eyes.
Relief lasted less than a second.
“But whoever tried knew enough personal information to answer two security questions correctly.”
I looked directly at Robert.
He saw my expression and stood.
“That wasn’t me.”
I covered the phone.
“Someone tried to access my account five days ago.”
Robert shook his head.
“I swear, Mom.”
I looked at Patrice.
She said nothing.
That was when I noticed her face.
She did not look surprised.
She looked frightened.
“Patrice.”
Her eyes met mine.
“Did you try to enter my account?”
“No.”
“Did you know somebody had?”
“No.”
“Then why do you look terrified?”
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Behind her, Karen sat down heavily.
“Oh, God.”
Every head turned.
Patrice went pale.
“Mom, don’t.”
Karen covered her face.
“I’m sorry.”
I moved closer.
“What do you know?”
Patrice stepped toward her.
“Don’t say anything.”
Robert blocked her.
“Leave her alone.”
Karen looked at me through tears.
“It wasn’t Patrice.”
“Who?”
“Susan.”
Nobody spoke.
Karen wiped her cheeks.
“Last week, Susan told Patrice she had enough information to test whether she could get into your accounts.”
My skin prickled.
“Test?”
“She said she needed to know whether the financial plan was possible.”
Robert whispered, “What financial plan?”
Karen looked at him.
“I don’t know all of it.”
Patrice shook her head furiously.
“Stop talking.”
“No,” Karen said.
Her voice was weak, but it held.
“I should have stopped this before.”
I stepped closer.
“What else did Susan say?”
Karen looked at Patrice.
Then back at me.
“She said she wasn’t sure you would sign.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“I know.”
“What was she planning to do about that?”
Karen began crying again.
“She said there were other ways.”
The room seemed to narrow.
“What ways?”
“I don’t know.”
Patrice spoke suddenly.
“She was exaggerating.”
Karen shook her head.
“You didn’t think so when she sent you the sample.”
Robert stared at his wife.
“What sample?”
Patrice’s face emptied.
Karen realized she had revealed something else.
I took one step forward.
“What sample?”
Before anyone answered, my phone vibrated.
Daniel had sent a message.
There was an attachment.
I opened it.
A document filled the screen.
My name appeared near the top.
Eleanor Morrison.
I scrolled downward.
At the bottom was a signature.
For several seconds, I simply stared at it.
It looked like mine.
The slant was close.
The capital E curved the way I wrote it.
Even the final stroke of Morrison rose slightly before dropping.
There was only one problem.
I had never seen the document before.
I had never held it.
And I had never signed it.
“Eleanor?” Karen whispered.
I raised my eyes.
Robert was watching me.
Patrice had gone completely still.
I looked down at the signature again.
The argument about bedrooms suddenly felt as though it had happened years ago.
Someone had moved beyond discussing my property.
Beyond researching it.
Beyond preparing forms and hoping I would cooperate.
Someone had already decided that my permission was unnecessary.
I turned the phone so Robert could see.
His face drained of color.
“What is that?”
“My signature.”
He leaned closer.
Then he looked at me.
“You signed something?”
“No.”
Patrice took a step backward.
That movement told me more than anything she could have said.
I looked at her.
Then at Karen.
Then at my son.
Daniel’s next message appeared beneath the image.
CALL ME NOW. DO NOT LET ANYONE LEAVE WITH DOCUMENTS.
I read it twice.
Until that moment, I had thought I was dealing with greed inside my family.
A son drowning in debt.
A daughter-in-law who saw my savings as an opportunity.
A cousin who knew how to make dangerous paperwork sound responsible.
But a forged signature changed the nature of everything.
This was no longer a family argument.
Someone had committed a crime using my name.
And before anyone left the house I had rented, I intended to discover exactly how far they had already gone.
Click here to continue reading: PART 5: Daniel Told Us Not to Move, and Patrice Finally Admitted the Forged Signature Was Only the Beginning
I Paid for the Family Vacation, Then Heard Patrice Decide Exactly Where I Was Allowed to Sleep
Part 4 of 35
