Chapter 3 - The Power of AttorneyI read the document three times.
The first time, I didn't understand what I was looking at.
The second time, I understood enough to become frightened.
The third time, I realized someone had tried to give my father control over my life while I was recovering in a hospital bed.
The power of attorney was dated nine days earlier.
Two days before my parents arrived at the hospital.
It granted Victor Bennett authority over property transactions, financial accounts, insurance matters, and legal documents.
My name appeared at the bottom.
My signature appeared beneath it.
Again, it was almost right.
Again, it wasn't mine.
Martin sat across from me at the kitchen table.
“This isn't a simple family dispute anymore.”
“What is it?”
“Potential fraud.”
I stared at the paper.
“Who witnessed it?”
He pointed to the bottom.
“Notary.”
I read the name.
“Elaine Morris.”
Martin immediately wrote it down.
“Do you know her?”
“No.”
“Your father?”
“No.”
“Your mother?”
“No.”
I looked at the document again.
There was a timestamp.
3:14 p.m.
I had been unconscious at 3:14 p.m.
Martin looked at me.
“Where were you that day?”
“The ICU.”
“Can you prove it?”
I almost laughed.
“Martin, I was unconscious.”
“I know.”
He stood.
“We need your hospital records.”
The next morning, Martin took me back to the hospital.
Shelly was working.
When she saw me, her expression softened.
“You came back.”
“Just for records.”
She smiled.
Then noticed my face.
“What happened?”
I told her.
Not everything.
Enough.
Her smile disappeared.
“Wait.”
She turned toward the nurses' station.
“I remember something.”
My heart began pounding.
“What?”
Shelly pulled up the visitor log.
“Your father came here several times.”
“I know.”
“Not just visiting.”
“What do you mean?”
She tapped the screen.
“He asked questions.”
“About me?”
“Yes.”
“What kind?”
Shelly frowned.
“He kept asking whether you could understand what people were saying.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
“He asked whether you could sign documents.”
My fingers curled into my palms.
“When?”
“The day after you woke up.”
I looked at Martin.
He was already taking notes.
“Did anyone else hear this?”
Shelly nodded.
“The charge nurse.”
“Anything else?”
Shelly hesitated.
“He asked whether you were going to receive a settlement.”
I felt something inside my chest sink.
“What settlement?”
“I don't know.”
“I never told my family about any settlement.”
Martin looked at me.
“You didn't?”
“No.”
He asked Shelly, “Did Mr. Bennett mention money?”
She thought.
“He said something about making sure Claire's affairs were handled before she became confused.”
I closed my eyes.
There it was.
The missing piece.
They hadn't come to my hospital room because they were worried.
They had come because they thought I was vulnerable.
Maybe they thought I wouldn't recover enough to challenge them.
Maybe they thought fear would make me sign whatever they put in front of me.
And maybe that was why my mother had laughed.
She didn't see a daughter asking for time.
She saw an obstacle.
When we left the hospital, Martin drove me straight to his office.
He had already pulled the county records.
The power of attorney had been used in one transaction.
A mortgage inquiry.
I stared at the screen.
“Mortgage?”
Martin nodded.
“Someone attempted to use the property as collateral.”
My stomach turned.
“How much?”
He entered the amount.
Then looked at me.
“Four hundred and eighty thousand dollars.”
I couldn't speak.
My house wasn't worth that much.
Not even close.
“Who submitted it?”
A lending company.
Under the name of Bennett Desert Holdings LLC.
My father's company.
I stood.
“He was trying to borrow money against my house.”
Martin didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
We both knew what it meant.
The fake ownership claim wasn't the beginning.
It was the cover.
Someone had already been trying to turn my house into cash.
I called my father.
He answered on the third ring.
“Claire.”
“Did you try to borrow money against my house?”
Silence.
“Dad?”
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
“Four hundred and eighty thousand dollars.”
Another pause.
Then he said, “That's not what you think.”
“What should I think?”
“I was protecting the family.”
The sentence hit me harder than I expected.
“You tried to mortgage my house.”
“No.”
“The documents say otherwise.”
“Your mother has medical bills.”
I froze.
“What?”
“She needs things.”
“That has nothing to do with my house.”
“She is your mother.”
“And?”
“You're really going to sit there and pretend family means nothing?”
I closed my eyes.
“You have spent my entire life using that word to excuse everything.”
He hung up.
I looked at Martin.
“Did you hear that?”
“I heard enough.”
We spent the next six hours tracing the company.
Bennett Desert Holdings had opened a business account.
There had been three deposits.
One for six thousand dollars.
One for twelve thousand.
One for twenty-five thousand.
Where did the money come from?
Wedding vendors.
Venue inquiries.
Event planners.
The company had apparently been collecting money from people who believed my property was available to rent.
Melissa and Daniel had not merely advertised my home.
They had monetized it.
My phone buzzed.
A message from Daniel.
“Please call me. Melissa is panicking.”
I ignored it.
Another message came.
“Your family wasn't supposed to do this.”
That one made me stop.
I replied.
“Then tell me everything.”
His typing bubble appeared.
Stopped.
Appeared again.
Then a single message came through.
“Your dad told us the house would be transferred before the wedding.”
I stared at the screen.
Before the wedding.
Transferred.
My father hadn't planned a family vacation.
He had planned to make my house his family's asset.
I read the sentence again.
Then another message appeared.
“Claire, there is something else you need to know.”
“What?”
This time the typing bubble stayed there for nearly a minute.
Then Daniel sent a photograph.
It showed a document.
My eyes locked onto the bottom of the page.
A property transfer agreement.
The signature line was filled in.
Not by me.
But there was something far worse.
The proposed transfer date was three weeks from now.
May you like
And the name of the person receiving the property was not Victor Bennett.
It was Melissa Bennett.
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