Chapter 6: The Signature
I sat in my car staring at the forged signature until the letters blurred.
My name was there.
My handwriting.
Or something close enough to fool someone who didn't know me.
The document was a refinancing authorization.
The date was two weeks earlier.
I hadn't signed anything two weeks earlier.
I had been at work.
Rachel sat in the passenger seat, silent.
Finally, I whispered, “Where did you get this?””
“Daniel sent it to me.””
“Why?””
“He wanted me to forward it to the lender.””
I turned toward her.
“And you didn't?””
“No.””
“Why?””
“Because by then I knew he was lying.””
I looked back at the paper.
“Did he tell you what this was for?””
“He said it would consolidate your mortgage and some business debt.””
“My mortgage?””
“Yes.””
“How much?””
Rachel looked at the document.
“Two hundred and forty thousand.””
I laughed under my breath.
It wasn't funny.
Our house wasn't worth anywhere near what Daniel was trying to pull out of it.
“That's impossible.””
“He planned to use the difference to cover the gambling debt.””
I stared through the windshield.
All those dinners.
All those excuses.
All those times he'd told me we were doing fine.
Meanwhile, he had been quietly digging a hole beneath our lives.
My phone rang.
Daniel.
I let it ring.
He called again.
Then again.
Rachel looked at the screen.
“Don't answer.””
“I won't.””
A voicemail appeared.
I played it.
Daniel's voice filled the car.
“Emily, please call me. You're misunderstanding everything.””
I almost smiled.
Even now.
Another voicemail.
“I'm serious. We need to talk before you make a mistake.””
A third.
“Please come home.””
I stopped the recording.
Rachel looked at me.
“What are you going to do?””
“I don't know.””
“Yes, you do.””
I looked at her.
She pointed at the document.
“He thinks you're still the woman who pays the bill and signs whatever he puts in front of you.””
I folded the paper carefully.
“That woman is gone.””
Rachel nodded.
Then my phone buzzed.
Not Daniel this time.
A message from my bank.
*New external transfer request pending approval.*
I opened it.
Amount: *$18,500.*
Recipient: Harrison Family Trust.
My hands went cold.
I hadn't authorized it.
I called the bank immediately.
A representative answered.
“I need to report an unauthorized transfer request.””
She asked for identification.
Then she said, “Ma'am, this request was initiated through your online banking credentials.””
My stomach dropped.
“Can you stop it?””
“It hasn't processed yet.””
“Please put a hold on every external transfer.””
“I can place a temporary security restriction.””
“Do it.””
She paused.
“There is another issue.””
“What?””
“There was a recent login from a device we don't recognize.””
“When?””
“About forty minutes ago.””
I looked at Rachel.
Daniel had called me repeatedly during that same period.
“Can you tell where it came from?””
“I'm sorry. I can only confirm the device location.””
“Where?””
She gave me an address.
My blood turned cold.
It was our house.
Daniel was inside.
Using my account.
I hung up.
Rachel stared at me.
“He's home.””
“Yes.””
“What are you going to do?””
I started the car.
“Find out what he's looking for.””
When I pulled into our driveway twenty minutes later, every light in the house was on.
Daniel's car sat in the garage.
The front door was unlocked.
I stepped inside.
“Daniel?””
No answer.
The house was silent except for the hum of the refrigerator.
I walked toward the kitchen.
Our desk drawers were open.
Papers covered the floor.
The filing cabinet stood unlocked.
Then I heard a noise upstairs.
A drawer slamming.
I froze.
“Daniel?””
Footsteps stopped above me.
Then his voice came down the staircase.
“Emily?””
I looked up.
Daniel stood on the landing.
He was holding a black folder.
The same kind of leather folder he had used at the restaurant.
He stared at me.
Then at Rachel, who had followed me inside.
His face went completely white.
“You brought her here.””
Rachel stepped forward.
“You lied to both of us.””
Daniel gripped the folder tighter.
“You don't understand.””
I pointed at it.
“What's in there?””
He said nothing.
“Daniel, what's in the folder?””
His eyes moved toward the front door.
Then back to me.
And I knew immediately.
He wasn't looking for a way to explain himself.
He was looking for a way out.
I took one step toward the stairs.
“Give me the folder.””
He shook his head.
“No.””
“Give it to me.””
“You don't want to see what's inside.””
I stopped.
“Why?””
Daniel looked at me.
May you like
Then he said the one thing I never expected.
“Because it proves your father knew about everything.””
