Chapter 8 - Forged Signatures
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I slowly reached out with trembling hands, playing the role of the intimidated elder perfectly, and flipped open the heavy manila folder.
The top page was not a simple property management agreement. It was a comprehensive refinancing application for my home, drawn up by a predatory online lender. I scanned the document, my seasoned eyes immediately catching the details. The proposed loan amount was a staggering eight hundred thousand dollars. It would effectively strip every ounce of equity from the home Daniel and I had worked our entire lives to pay off.
But what made my blood truly run cold was the bottom of the page. My name, Eleanor Vale, had already been perfectly typed beneath a signature line, and right above it was a digital, blue-ink signature that looked exactly like mine.
Michael finally looked up from his phone, pouring himself a second cup of black coffee without offering me a glance.
“We’re family, Mom,” Michael said, his voice laced with a manipulative, faux-gentle tone. “Stop making everything so difficult. Just initial the back pages so we can submit the finalized packet.”
“What will this massive amount of money be used for?” I asked, keeping my voice shaky and small.
Vanessa smiled, a predatory gleam in her dark eyes. “Expansion, obviously.”
It was a laughable lie. Her boutique had not made a single dollar of profit in eleven months; I knew this because my analysts at Hawthorne tracked her accounts. Michael’s restaurant had catastrophically closed owing vendors, employees, and my firm nearly two million dollars.
I slowly pushed the folder back across the marble island. “I need time to read this.”
Neither of them noticed that beneath the counter, my hands had completely stopped trembling.
May you like
Michael slammed his palm violently against the countertop, making the coffee cups rattle. “You don't need time! You have until Friday morning, Mom. Do not test me again.”
They truly thought my fear had bought my total obedience.
