Chapter 3 - MY FORGED SIGNATURE
I studied the signature until the letters blurred.
Rachel Miller.
It looked almost right.
Almost.
But I knew my own handwriting.
I always looped the final “l” in Miller.
This signature didn’t.
Someone had tried to transfer my house.
I flipped to the second page.
The document claimed I had agreed to give Derek fifty-percent ownership of the property three years earlier.
Impossible.
Three years earlier, I had been in Singapore working a twelve-hour ICU shift on the date listed beside my supposed signature.
I photographed every page.
Then I heard Melissa laughing in the dining room.
I slipped the document into my jacket.
For the first time since coming home, my anger was replaced by something much colder.
They hadn’t just abused Mom.
They had prepared to steal the house.
I returned to the dining room.
Melissa was telling a story.
“When Derek and I bought this place, it was practically falling apart.”
I stopped walking.
Derek stared into his plate.
A guest named Carol looked impressed.
“You bought it together?”
Melissa smiled.
“Well, technically Derek handled most of the paperwork.”
I almost choked on the irony.
“And now it must be worth a fortune,” Carol said.
“Over nine hundred thousand,” Melissa replied proudly.
I pulled out a chair.
“Interesting.”
Melissa glanced at me.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
I sat beside Mom.
She immediately whispered,
“What are you doing?”
“Eating dinner.”
“You’re scaring me.”
I looked at her.
“Mom, did you sign any papers for Derek?”
Her fork stopped halfway to her mouth.
Derek coughed.
Melissa leaned forward.
“Why are you interrogating her?”
“I asked Mom.”
Mom’s voice dropped.
“He asked me to sign some things.”
“What things?”
“I don’t know.”
Derek interrupted.
“Insurance paperwork.”
I looked at him.
“What insurance?”
He hesitated.
“House stuff.”
“House stuff?”
Melissa slammed her fork down.
“My God, Rachel. Can we have one normal dinner?”
“I’d love one.”
I glanced at Mom’s cheek.
“But apparently that wasn’t on the menu.”
The guests shifted uncomfortably.
Melissa’s mother Linda spoke from the other end.
“Your mother is difficult.”
I slowly turned toward her.
Linda continued eating.
“She forgets things. She breaks things. Melissa has the patience of a saint.”
I stared at the woman sleeping in my mother’s bedroom.
“Really?”
“Absolutely.”
“And when Mom makes mistakes, do you hit her too?”
Linda dropped her fork.
“Rachel!” Derek snapped.
I ignored him.
Linda looked offended.
“I would never.”
“Good.”
I smiled thinly.
“Then tonight should be very educational for you.”
Derek stood.
“Kitchen. Now.”
“No.”
“I said now.”
“And I said no.”
His face reddened.
The room fell silent.
Then Mom grabbed my hand.
“Rachel.”
I turned.
Her eyes were full of tears.
“Please don’t destroy your relationship with your brother because of me.”
I felt my heart crack.
Because of me.
They had convinced her that she was the problem.
I covered her hand with mine.
“This isn’t because of you.”
Melissa laughed bitterly.
“Here comes the hero speech.”
I looked at her.
“No speech.”
I reached inside my jacket.
Derek’s face went pale.
That confirmed he knew about the forged document.
I placed it on the table.
“What is this?”
Melissa stared.
Derek didn’t move.
Carol leaned forward.
“What’s that?”
I kept my eyes on Derek.
“Why don’t you tell everyone?”
His lips tightened.
Melissa snatched the papers.
Her confidence disappeared almost instantly.
“Where did you get this?”
“Kitchen drawer.”
“You went through our things?”
“Our things?”
I leaned back.
“This document has my forged signature.”
Linda stood.
“Forged?”
Melissa looked at Derek.
For the first time that evening, she seemed genuinely confused.
“Derek?”
He muttered,
“Not here.”
My pulse jumped.
Melissa turned on him.
“What does she mean, forged?”
“Melissa, shut up.”
She stared at him.
I watched their faces.
Something became clear.
Melissa knew plenty.
But perhaps not everything.
I pointed at the document.
“It says I transferred half ownership of this house to Derek.”
A guest whispered,
“I thought you said you owned it.”
Melissa’s face flushed.
“We do.”
“No,” I said.
“You don’t.”
I reached into my purse and removed my phone.
I pulled up a digital copy of the original deed.
“My name is the only name on this property.”
Silence.
Melissa looked at Derek.
Then at the guests.
Then back at me.
“You’re lying.”
“County records disagree.”
Derek slammed his palm on the table.
“That’s enough!”
I met his eyes.
“No.”
My voice stayed quiet.
“We’re just getting started.”
Then someone knocked at the front door.
Three hard knocks.
Derek went white.
Melissa frowned.
“Are we expecting someone?”
He didn’t answer.
Another knock.
I stood.
“I’ll get it.”
Derek rushed toward me.
“No!”
That one word told me whoever was standing outside was someone he desperately did not want me to meet.
I opened the door anyway.
A middle-aged man in a gray suit stood on the porch holding an envelope.
He looked at Derek over my shoulder.
“Mr. Miller?”
“Yes?”
The man handed him the envelope.
“You’ve been served.”
Melissa whispered,
“Served with what?”
Derek opened the papers.
His knees almost buckled.
And I saw the words at the top.
May you like
NOTICE OF FORECLOSURE.
On a loan secured against my house.
