Chapter 2 - Daniel Reeves was waiting when I arrived at his office the next morning.He was in his late fifties, silver-haired, controlled, and visibly uncomfortable.
That bothered me.
Lawyers weren't usually visibly uncomfortable.
Especially men like Daniel.
He motioned for me to sit.
“I'll be direct,” he said.
“Please.”
“Your husband came to us four weeks ago.”
My chest tightened.
“Why?”
“He wanted assistance preparing a transfer of ownership for your residence.”
I stared at him.
“He wanted to sell my house?”
“Not exactly.”
Daniel slid a folder across the desk.
“He wanted to establish a family trust.”
I frowned.
“A trust?”
“For the property.”
I opened the folder.
The first pages looked ordinary.
Until I saw the proposed ownership structure.
The house would be placed into a trust.
The trustees would be Julian and another person.
Chloe.
I looked up slowly.
“Chloe?”
Daniel nodded.
“She was named as a beneficiary.”
My vision blurred.
“That's impossible.”
“I agree.”
“But why would your law firm prepare it?”
Daniel leaned back.
“We didn't finalize anything because we discovered a major issue.”
“The deed.”
“Yes.”
He pulled out a copy.
“My grandmother's deed.”
Daniel nodded.
“Your deed is clean. It was purchased in your name. There is no marital transfer, no joint ownership, no recorded lien from your husband.”
I exhaled.
“Then why did you call me?”
“Because Julian presented us with a document claiming you had agreed to transfer your interest.”
My hands went cold.
“What document?”
Daniel placed another page on the table.
A signature.
My signature.
I stared at it.
It looked like mine.
But something was wrong.
I had signed thousands of documents in my life.
That signature had too much pressure in the first stroke.
Too much slant.
And my middle initial was wrong.
I never wrote it that way.
I looked at Daniel.
“This is forged.”
“We suspected that.”
“Then why haven't you reported him?”
“Because we aren't law enforcement.”
I swallowed.
“What happens now?”
Daniel looked at me carefully.
“You protect yourself.”
“How?”
“First, change every lock on that house.”
“I can't go back there.”
“Then have someone do it for you.”
He paused.
“Second, freeze access to your financial accounts if Julian has any authority.”
“He doesn't.”
“Verify that.”
I nodded.
Daniel's expression changed.
“There is something else.”
“What?”
“Your husband wasn't acting alone.”
Silence filled the room.
“Who?”
“We don't know yet.”
I stared at him.
“You said another person was involved.”
“Possibly.”
“Who?”
Daniel opened a second file.
Inside was a photocopy of an email.
Sender:
Chloe Bennett.
Recipient:
Julian Sterling.
Subject:
After the funeral.
My stomach dropped.
The email was brief.
We should wait until she leaves voluntarily.
Do not force anything before Monday.
Once the house is secure, we'll finish the paperwork.
I read it twice.
Then a third time.
“She knew.”
Daniel nodded.
“She knew about the house?”
“She appears to.”
My hands shook.
“But why would Chloe care about my house?”
Daniel didn't answer.
I knew what he was thinking.
Maybe she didn't care about the house.
Maybe she cared about becoming the woman who owned it.
I left his office with copies of everything.
Before getting into my car, I called my bank.
The representative asked several security questions.
Then she said:
“Mrs. Sterling, there is something you should know.”
“What?”
“Your husband attempted to add himself as an authorized user on one of your accounts yesterday.”
My heart stopped.
“Did you allow it?”
“No.”
I closed my eyes.
“Thank you.”
I hung up.
Then my phone rang.
Julian.
I let it ring.
Again.
Again.
Finally, I answered.
“Where are you?”
His voice sounded annoyed.
“I'm at a hotel.”
“Clara, this is getting ridiculous.”
“You forged my signature.”
Silence.
It lasted three seconds.
Then he laughed.
“You're grieving. You need to rest.”
“Daniel Reeves showed me the trust documents.”
His voice changed.
Very slightly.
“You went to a lawyer?”
“Yes.”
“You should have talked to me first.”
“You wanted my house.”
“It was supposed to become a family asset.”
“It was never yours.”
He exhaled.
“You really want to make this ugly?”
I looked through my windshield.
“No.”
My voice became strangely calm.
“You already did.”
I ended the call.
Then another message appeared.
Unknown number.
I opened it.
It contained a single photograph.
The picture was taken inside my house.
My bedroom.
My locked bedroom.
Someone had photographed the inside of my closet.
Underneath the image was one sentence.
You should have taken the blue box with you.
I stared at the screen.
I had never told Julian about the blue box.
Nobody knew about it.
Nobody except me.
And my grandmother.
The blue box was hidden beneath a loose floorboard in my old bedroom closet.
It contained letters, an old key, and one document my grandmother had told me never to lose.
I had forgotten it was still there.
Until now.
May you like
And suddenly, the question wasn't whether Julian wanted my house.
It was what was hidden inside it.
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