Chapter 3 - THE PAPERS FOR TOMORROW
At the hospital, Irene was taken straight for scans.
I sat alone in a white hallway at three in the morning, holding a copy of the forged guardianship petition.
According to the document, I had been experiencing “progressive cognitive decline, memory impairment, paranoia, and impaired judgment.”
Apparently, I was also refusing medical treatment.
None of it was true.
The petition requested that my mother be appointed temporary guardian over my financial affairs.
The hearing date was listed for Friday.
Tomorrow.
Carla’s words replayed in my head.
We need those papers tomorrow.
My attorney, Marcus Hale, answered on the fourth ring.
“Austin? Do you know what time it is?”
“Someone filed for guardianship over me.”
Silence.
Then his voice changed.
“Who?”
“My mother.”
He was fully awake now.
“Send me everything.”
I photographed the petition.
Marcus called back less than five minutes later.
“This is sophisticated.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning somebody planned it.”
“I figured that much out.”
“No, Austin. I mean someone who understands probate court prepared this. There are physician affidavits, financial schedules, competency allegations. This isn’t something Carla downloaded tonight.”
I looked through the glass doors toward Irene’s treatment room.
“Can it work?”
“If nobody challenges it quickly enough? A temporary order can be entered before you realize what happened.”
My stomach dropped.
“What could they control?”
“Depending on the order? Accounts. Trust distributions. Certain corporate shares.”
“My father’s trust?”
“Possibly.”
That answered why the trust documents were in the suitcase.
I rubbed my eyes.
“How did I miss this?”
Marcus was quiet.
Then he said, “We’ll deal with that later.”
A doctor walked toward me.
I stood immediately.
“Mr. Wentworth?”
“Yes.”
“I’m Dr. Patel.”
“How’s my wife?”
“The baby still has a heartbeat.”
My knees nearly buckled.
“But?”
“She has bruising, dehydration, and a mild concussion. We’re also concerned about substances in her bloodstream.”
“What substances?”
“We’re waiting on toxicology.”
I stared at him.
“She told the paramedics my mother had been giving her pills.”
“We heard.”
He lowered his voice.
“Has your wife had problems with anxiety or sleep?”
“No.”
“Has she been prescribed sedatives?”
“No.”
He nodded slowly.
“That’s what concerns me.”
Before I could ask more, a nurse appeared.
“She’s awake.”
I walked into the room.
Irene looked tiny beneath the hospital blanket.
She tried to smile.
It didn’t work.
I sat beside her.
“Irene…”
She looked at my hands instead of my face.
“I’m sorry.”
My throat tightened.
“For what?”
“For not telling you sooner.”
“Don’t.”
“I kept thinking I could handle your mother.”
“You never should’ve had to.”
“She kept saying I was trying to separate you from your family.”
I closed my eyes.
That sounded exactly like Mom.
“What happened?”
Irene stared at the ceiling.
“It started about two months ago.”
She told me Mom began controlling meals.
Then appointments.
Then visitors.
If Irene wanted to drive somewhere, Margaret insisted she was too tired.
If Irene called her sister, Mom hovered nearby.
Then things disappeared.
Her phone charger.
Her spare car key.
A credit card.
“I thought I was losing my mind,” Irene whispered.
“And the pills?”
“Mom said they were vitamins your doctor recommended.”
“My doctor?”
“She said you asked her to give them to me.”
My jaw clenched.
“I never did.”
“I know that now.”
She turned toward me.
“But Austin…”
Something in her expression scared me.
“What?”
“The pills aren’t the worst thing.”
I felt cold again.
“What did they do?”
Irene’s fingers tightened around the blanket.
“Your mother has been bringing a man into the house.”
I stared at her.
“What man?”
“I don’t know his name.”
“When?”
“When you travel.”
“Why?”
May you like
Her eyes filled with tears.
“Because he’s been teaching Carla how to copy your signature.”
