Chapter 10 - The Lawyer Who Opened the Door
The person who gave Warren access was not a stranger. She had attended my mother's funeral.
My old office had been converted into a medical billing company.
The landlord still had the maintenance records.
Evelyn came with me.
The building manager searched the archives.
“Three years ago?”
“Yes.”
“After hours.”
He pulled a binder.
“There was an entry.”
I leaned closer.
“Who?”
He showed me the log.
A name.
Marianne Cole.
My former paralegal.
I remembered her.
She had worked with me for six years.
She had known everything about my family.
She had attended my mother's funeral.
She had helped me organize the estate.
“Where is she now?”
“Don't know.”
Evelyn photographed the log.
“Anything else?”
The manager flipped another page.
“Security camera footage was retained for thirty days back then.”
“Do you still have it?”
“No.”
“What about access cards?”
He checked.
“Marianne's card was used at 9:42 p.m.”
The timestamp matched the log.
My stomach tightened.
“She had access.”
“Yes.”
We found Marianne through an old professional registry.
She was working in another city.
Evelyn called.
Marianne answered.
“Rosalie?”
Her voice sounded surprised.
“I need to ask you about the Hollis estate.”
Silence.
“Why?”
“Did you give Warren Baker access to my office?”
“No.”
“You were logged into the building.”
“I went back for documents.”
“Which documents?”
She hung up.
We drove to the address.
A woman answered.
Marianne looked older.
When she saw me, she started crying.
“I never wanted this.”
“Wanted what?”
“Any of it.”
“You gave Warren my files.”
She nodded.
“Why?”
“He paid my brother's hospital bill.”
I stared.
“How much?”
“Everything.”
Evelyn remained silent.
Marianne wiped her face.
“Warren said your mother had promised him the property.”
“She hadn't.”
“I know that now.”
“You gave him the estate file.”
“Yes.”
“What did he take?”
“The original power of attorney.”
I felt the room tilt.
“What else?”
“A copy of the will.”
“Anything else?”
She shook her head.
“Wait.”
She opened a drawer.
“I kept one thing.”
A photocopy.
The original special power of attorney.
I took it.
The copy showed the real language.
Including the exclusion of real property.
I looked at the bottom.
Marianne had written a note:
Warren said Daniel would sign a replacement authority.
My skin went cold.
“He planned to replace the power of attorney.”
Marianne nodded.
“He told me the original was inconvenient.”
The phrase said everything.
Not invalid.
Inconvenient.
I asked, “Did he forge my signature?”
“I don't know.”
“Did you see him with the document?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Three years ago.”
“What did he say?”
Marianne closed her eyes.
“He said, ‘By the time Rosalie notices, the county will have no choice but to approve the project.’”
I looked at Evelyn.
That was enough.
But Marianne wasn't finished.
“There was another person.”
“Who?”
“The notary.”
“Who?”
“Patricia Lowell.”
I recognized the name.
The same notary on the forged option.
“Did Warren know her?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“She had done payroll work for Baker Landworks.”
That was the missing connection.
The notary wasn't independent.
She was tied to the company.
“Did she stamp documents without witnesses?”
Marianne nodded.
“Sometimes.”
“Did Warren keep her seal?”
“He kept everything.”
We returned to Evelyn's office.
The next morning, we filed a supplemental motion.
Fraudulent notarization.
Lack of agency.
Improper use of an expired notarial seal.
Potential misrepresentation to a lender.
And evidence that Baker Landworks had obtained my confidential estate documents.
The judge ordered a status conference.
Warren's lawyers were less confident this time.
Then something unexpected happened.
The county announced the transportation project publicly.
The interchange.
The commercial corridor.
The project maps.
The projected investment.
The names of the developers.
Baker Ridge Ventures.
My phone exploded with calls.
Reporters.
Real estate brokers.
Developers.
Investors.
One developer offered $2.4 million for the property immediately.
Another offered $3.1 million.
The land Warren had sued me over for $150,000 was suddenly the most watched property in the county.
Warren had lost the element of secrecy.
But the next morning, the county filed a notice.
They wanted an easement for the access road.
Not condemnation.
Negotiation.
But their proposed route crossed my mother's field.
Evelyn looked at it.
“Do not sign.”
“I wasn't going to.”
“Good.”
“Why?”
“Because if you give the county the easement now, you change the valuation and the bargaining position.”
“Then what should I do?”
She looked at me.
“Wait.”
For once, I didn't mind.
That afternoon, Daniel called.
“Dad wants to meet.”
“No.”
“He says he'll settle.”
“How much?”
“Two million.”
I almost laughed.
“He offered one hundred and fifty thousand.”
“He's afraid now.”
“He should be.”
Then Daniel said:
“There's a condition.”
“What?”
“He wants you to dismiss the lawsuit and sign the easement.”
“No.”
“I told him you wouldn't.”
Silence.
Then Daniel whispered:
“Rosalie, he has the original recording.”
My blood froze.
“What recording?”
“Your mother's final recording.”
I stared at the phone.
“I have the recording.”
“No.”
May you like
Daniel's voice broke.
“The one you found was a copy.”
