Chapter 5: The Signature That Wasn't Mine
I stared at the document until the words began to blur.
The page contained a property transfer agreement, several legal references, and a signature beneath my name.
Lena Reed.
The signature looked convincing at first glance.
The capital L curved the way I had always written it. The final stroke of my surname extended beneath the letters in the same way it did on my hospital paperwork.
But the longer I looked, the more certain I became.
I had never signed that document.
"What is this?"" I whispered.
Daniel pulled his chair closer.
"It's a transfer agreement filed several months ago.""
"Transfer of what?""
"The house.""
My stomach tightened.
"To whom?""
He turned the screen slightly.
"Whitmore Holdings.""
I read the company name twice.
"That's Carter's company.""
"Yes.""
I shook my head.
"No. We bought the house together. We both signed the mortgage paperwork. Why would I transfer my share to his company?""
Daniel did not answer immediately.
"That's what I intend to find out.""
I pushed the phone away.
"I don't understand.""
"I know.""
"Did Carter do this?""
"I don't know yet.""
I looked at him sharply.
"But you think he did.""
Daniel folded his hands.
"I think someone submitted a document bearing your signature, and I think you deserve to know how it happened.""
I wanted to reject the possibility.
I wanted to believe that this was some administrative mistake, that a lawyer had filed the wrong page, or that a clerk had attached the wrong document to the wrong property record.
Anything was easier than believing that my husband had been quietly arranging to take away the home we had built together.
But the truth had been sitting in front of me for months.
Carter had begun insisting that all financial paperwork go through him. He said he was better at managing investments. He told me that medical professionals were too busy to understand property law.
When I questioned an unfamiliar withdrawal from our joint account, he accused me of distrusting him.
When I asked to review our mortgage statements, he said I was creating problems because I was pregnant.
And when Eleanor began telling visitors that the house belonged to her son, Carter never corrected her.
I had noticed.
I had simply been too exhausted to follow the thought to its conclusion.
"Can he take the house away from me?"" I asked.
"Not just because he wants to," Daniel replied.
"But we need to establish exactly what was filed, who submitted it, and whether the document is legitimate.""
He paused.
"I'll have an independent attorney review it. Someone who has never worked for me or for Northstar.""
I swallowed.
"Why independent?""
"Because you need advice that protects your interests, not mine.""
I stared at my brother.
Even now, when he could have swept into the room and promised to solve every problem, he was giving me something more valuable.
Control over my own decisions.
"Thank you," I whispered.
Daniel nodded.
"Get some rest. We'll discuss the paperwork when you're stronger.""
He put the phone away.
For a few minutes, I tried to focus on the sound of the fetal monitor.
The heartbeat continued, fast and steady.
Every beat felt like a small hand knocking from the other side of a locked door.
I wanted to believe my son would be okay.
I wanted to believe that when I finally held him, I would be able to give him the kind of home my mother had given Daniel and me.
A home where anger did not mean danger.
Where mistakes did not lead to punishment.
Where love did not require fear.
But I could no longer ignore the fact that I had nearly lost him while trying to preserve a marriage that had already abandoned me.
The hospital social worker arrived shortly before midnight.
Her name was Marissa, and she wore a navy cardigan over a simple blouse. She introduced herself, explained that our conversation was confidential within the limits of hospital policy, and asked whether I felt safe returning home.
I looked at my hands.
"No.""
The answer came more easily than I expected.
Marissa nodded.
"Thank you for telling me. Has your husband hurt you before tonight?""
May you like
I hesitated.
Then I told her about the first time Carter had grabbed my arm hard enough to leave bruises. I told her about the way he blocked doorways during arguments, how he took my phone when he thought I was calling my father, and how Eleanor once threatened
