Not because he was wealthy.
Not because he had power over my mother.
But because he was finally willing to admit that love without honesty could become another form of control.
His legal adviser called shortly after two in the morning.
David put the call on speaker so I could hear everything.
The adviser’s name was Rebecca Shaw, and she spoke with the precise calm of someone accustomed to complicated financial disputes.
“We’ve completed the first review of Eleanor Vance’s borrowing documents.”
My hands tightened around Leo’s blanket.
Rebecca continued.
“The purported guarantee contains a signature attributed to Clara, but several surrounding records raise serious questions about its authenticity.”
“Such as?”
I asked.
“The listed signing location conflicts with information available from the date, and the supporting certification appears incomplete.”
I stared at the phone.
“So someone may have forged my signature?”
“That’s one possibility we’re investigating.”
