Chapter 4 - The Signature That Wasn't MineMartin found the first forged document.
It was a trust amendment.
My name was on it.
The document stated that I had voluntarily transferred control of several investment accounts to Lauren.
I had never signed it.
I looked at the signature.
It was almost perfect.
Almost.
But I knew my own signature.
There was one difference.
My middle initial.
I always wrote it with a small loop.
The signature on the document didn't.
An ordinary person would never notice.
I did.
“Forgery,” I said.
Martin nodded.
“Likely.”
Jared looked at me.
“Can we prove it?”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Your father has thirty-eight years of professional documents.”
Martin smiled.
“Thousands of verified signatures.”
We submitted them to a forensic document examiner.
The results came back three weeks later.
The signature was not mine.
It had been simulated.
Then investigators found another document.
A power of attorney.
Again, my signature.
Again, forged.
That document gave Lauren authority over my financial accounts.
Jared stared at it.
“She could have taken everything.”
“She tried.”
Then we discovered something worse.
A letter had been sent to my investment company requesting liquidation of my remaining portfolio.
The amount was $1.2 million.
My retirement savings.
Everything I had spent decades building.
The letter was scheduled to be processed the following week.
I sat back.
“If we hadn't checked?”
Martin looked at me.
“You'd have lost almost everything.”
Jared covered his face.
“Dad.”
I looked at him.
“Don't blame yourself.”
“I brought her into your life.”
“No.”
“I trusted her.”
“So did I.”
He looked at me.
“You?”
“Yes.”
I paused.
“Trust isn't a crime.”
Jared nodded.
Then he asked:
“What happens now?”
I looked at the documents.
“Now we stop protecting her.”
That afternoon, Lauren called.
“Richard.”
“Yes?”
“You're making a terrible mistake.”
“Am I?”
“You've involved Jared in something he doesn't understand.”
“I understand perfectly.”
Jared was standing beside me.
Lauren continued.
“Your father is confused.”
I looked at Jared.
“Still using that one?”
“Dad—”
She interrupted.
“Richard, you're seventy-two.”
“And you're thirty-eight.”
“So?”
“So I spent thirty-eight years auditing financial records.”
Silence.
Then I heard her breathe.
“You wouldn't.”
“Wouldn't what?”
“Destroy this family.”
I smiled.
“You destroyed it.”
“No.”
“You just forgot I know how to follow money.”
She hung up.
Jared looked at me.
“Dad.”
“What?”
May you like
“She sounded scared.”
“She should.”
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