Chapter 8 - The Deal Under My NameThe next morning, an attorney from Raleigh came to see us.
His name was David Sloan.
Laura had recommended him.
He read through Frank's documents without speaking for nearly an hour.
Then he asked:
“Did you know your property rights extend below the surface?”
“No.”
“Did you know there is an active development proposal tied to them?”
“No.”
He nodded.
“That explains a great deal.”
Rebecca leaned forward.
“Explain.”
David placed the contract on the table.
“Bellwood Development has been attempting to acquire these rights for nearly two years.”
“How?”
“Through a lease agreement.”
“Signed by whom?”
He looked at me.
“Apparently you.”
I shook my head.
“I never signed a lease.”
David handed me the document.
The signature looked like mine.
Again.
The same copied stroke.
The same slight curve.
My fake signature was becoming more familiar than my real one.
Rebecca asked:
“What's the date?”
“Four months after Frank's death.”
“And the authority?”
David pointed to the power of attorney.
“Your son.”
I felt sick.
“He used the power of attorney to execute the agreement.”
“Was it recorded?”
“Yes.”
“Can it be cancelled?”
“Possibly.”
“Possibly?”
David looked at me.
“That depends on whether your signature was validly obtained, whether the power of attorney was legally effective, and whether the other party knew or should have known about any limitation.”
Rebecca's eyes narrowed.
“So Bellwood may have known.”
David nodded.
“That would matter.”
Laura opened another file.
“Bellwood's legal counsel received Frank's warning letter.”
David looked at it.
“This is significant.”
“What does it say?”
He read silently.
Then looked at me.
“Frank warned them not to enter any agreement concerning your property without direct confirmation from you.”
I swallowed.
“Did they?”
“No.”
Rebecca looked at the contract.
“What happens now?”
David closed the folder.
“First, we secure every financial account.”
“Done.”
“Second, revoke every previous authorization.”
“Can we?”
“Yes, but we need to notify every institution immediately.”
“Third?”
“Challenge the property agreement.”
“And the people involved?”
David looked at Rebecca.
“That depends on what the investigation shows.”
We were preparing to leave when Rebecca found another document.
A land survey.
It showed a drilling access route cutting directly beneath my property.
My house sat at the edge of a larger mineral field.
Bellwood planned to sell the rights to a national energy company.
Potential value:
$6.8 million.
I stared at the number.
I couldn't process it.
Rebecca could.
She slowly sat back.
“They knew.”
“Yes.”
“They knew Mom owned rights worth nearly seven million dollars.”
David nodded.
“And they knew she was vulnerable after Frank died.”
Laura spoke quietly.
“That is why the refrigerator was empty.”
Everyone looked at her.
“What?”
“Look at the withdrawals.”
She pulled up the records.
There were small grocery-store purchases.
Then larger transfers.
But whenever I spent money myself, Melissa reduced the available balance.
She had rationed my money.
Not because she needed every dollar.
Because she wanted me dependent.
I remembered asking her twice for money for new shoes.
She had told me I was “spending too much.”
I remembered buying canned soup.
She had criticized me for being wasteful.
I remembered asking for a new winter coat.
She said mine was still fine.
All this time, my money had been paying their expenses.
My dependence had been manufactured.
Rebecca looked at me.
“Mom, they weren't managing your life.”
“They were managing your access to it.”
I closed my eyes.
Then my phone rang.
Daniel.
I answered.
His voice was strained.
“Mom, we need to talk.”
“You're right.”
“Rebecca has been filling your head with things.”
I said nothing.
“She doesn't understand the full situation.”
“Then explain it.”
Silence.
“What is Bellwood?”
Another silence.
“Mom…”
“What is Bellwood?”
He exhaled.
“It was supposed to work.”
“What was?”
“The development.”
“You used my money.”
“I was going to pay it back.”
“You put a lien on my house.”
“I had no choice.”
“You forged my signature.”
“I didn't.”
My heart stopped.
“Then who did?”
He said nothing.
I asked again.
“Daniel, who forged my signature?”
He whispered:
“Melissa.”
The line went dead.
I stared at the phone.
Rebecca had heard everything.
She didn't move.
Then my phone buzzed again.
A text.
From Daniel.
Mom, don't trust Rebecca either.
She has her own reason for digging into this.
I looked at my daughter.
She saw the message.
Her face hardened.
“What reason?” I asked.
She looked at me.
“I don't know.”
Then she remembered something.
A document.
A transfer.
A name.
Her own.
She grabbed Laura's laptop.
“Search my name.”
Laura did.
The result appeared.
Rebecca had been listed as the beneficiary of Frank's hidden trust.
But there was another entry.
A payment.
$50,000.
Made six months after Frank died.
Paid to an account in Rebecca's name.
Rebecca stared.
“I never got that money.”
Then a second payment appeared.
$50,000.
Then another.
$75,000.
Rebecca's face had gone completely white.
I looked at her.
“Rebecca…”
She shook her head.
“I swear to you, Mom…”
She stopped.
Because Laura had opened the next document.
It was a bank authorization.
And it contained Rebecca's forged signature.
Rebecca stared at the screen.
May you like
Then whispered:
“Someone has been using my identity too.”
Related Stories
