Chapter 5 - WHAT ETHAN SIGNED
Ethan rubbed a hand across his face.
“I thought it was a preliminary investment agreement,” he said. “George told me nothing could move forward without Mom signing.”
Nora read the first page. “That part is true. But it gives Willow Gate the right to purchase your house if certain conditions are met.”
“What conditions?”
She turned a page. “An approved transfer of Helen’s parcel. Then a short deadline for payment.”
“So they need her land,” Ethan said.
“They need her signature, real or forged.”
The room felt suddenly smaller. Ethan’s company had been seeking investors for a new distribution center. George had promised introductions, and Ethan had allowed him into his business affairs. I could see every decision lining up in Ethan’s mind, each one looking worse than it had at the time.
“I should’ve read it with you,” I said.
“You asked,” he replied. “I told you I had it handled.”
Nora tapped the agreement. “We can challenge the forged transfer. Ethan, I need every email and message about this deal. Don’t confront George yet.”
“He knows we’ve caught it.”
“Then let him put his account in writing,” she said.
By noon, George had done exactly that. He emailed Ethan, saying the transfer was a draft uploaded by mistake. He claimed Calvin’s office had used sample documents during preparation and apologized for the confusion.
Nora read it aloud. “A draft with a notarization and your mother’s driver’s license attached.”
“He thinks I’ll accept it,” Ethan said.
“Maybe he hopes you will.”
Luis called again that afternoon. The gray SUV belonged to a document courier service. Its driver had delivered the black case to Pierce’s office. He had a receipt with George’s signature.
Nora contacted the title company and sent the recording that placed me at the party during the supposed signing. She also asked them to preserve the upload logs and all original documents. Then she helped me file a formal report about the forged signature.
I spent the rest of the afternoon at Ethan’s house, packing the few things I’d brought for a planned weekend visit. The celebration tents were gone. Only flattened patches of grass showed where the tables had stood.
Vanessa found me in the guest room.
“You got what you wanted,” she said.
I folded my shawl. It had dried stiff. “What do you think I wanted?”
“To make Ethan hate me.”
“You held the hose.”
She shut the door. “You walked in looking like you hadn’t eaten in a week. You set me up.”
“I wanted to see how you treated a stranger.”
“And you’re proud of that?”
“No,” I said. “I wish I’d been wrong.”
For a moment she looked younger, almost frightened. Then her mouth tightened.
“You have no idea what my father is capable of.”
“Then tell me.”
She glanced at the door. “I can’t.”
“Vanessa—”
A car horn sounded outside. She stepped back.
“Stay out of the closing,” she said. “For Ethan’s sake.”
She left before I could ask what she meant.
That evening, Ethan brought me a printout of his messages with George. Halfway through, he stopped turning pages.
“What?” I asked.
“George knew I planned to refinance next month. He said his investors would help.”
“Did he offer that before or after he showed you the agreement?”
“After.”
Nora called as Ethan was answering. Her voice was taut.
“Someone tried to access the paused closing packet again,” she said. “They used a different account.”
“Who?”
“We’re still checking. But they added a new file.”
May you like
“What kind of file?”
“A letter from Ethan claiming you’re no longer able to manage your finances.”
