Chapter 5 - THE FORGERY
I called the bank from the kitchen.
Andrew followed me.
“Hang up.”
I turned my back.
“Security department, please.”
“Claire.”
Lorraine entered behind him.
“You are embarrassing us.”
I covered the phone.
“Both of you get away from me.”
The bank representative verified my identity.
Then she said the words that made my knees weak.
“Yes, Mrs. Morgan, we do have a pending home-equity application.”
“I never submitted one.”
Silence.
“I’m going to transfer you to fraud.”
Andrew reached for the phone.
I stepped away.
“Don’t touch me.”
He stopped.
That was the first time I saw calculation replace charm in his face.
“Think carefully,” he said. “If you report fraud, you could ruin my career.”
“You forged my signature.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Then you have nothing to worry about.”
Lorraine hissed, “Marriage means helping your husband.”
“Forgery means prison.”
Her face went white.
I finished the fraud report.
The bank froze the application.
Then I called my attorney.
Her name was Rachel Kim, and I had met her two years earlier when she helped settle my grandfather’s trust.
I sent her photographs of the burned waiver, the deed, and screenshots from Natalie’s files.
She called back fifteen minutes later.
“Claire, do not leave the property documents unattended.”
“I won’t.”
“And change your digital passwords.”
I looked at Andrew.
“Already doing it.”
Rachel paused.
“One more thing. The house is titled in both names, but your separate contribution and waiver matter. If the waiver is enforceable, Andrew may have a much smaller equity claim than he thinks.”
Lorraine heard that.
“This is theft.”
Rachel replied through the speaker, “Ma’am, I don’t know who you are, but destroying legal evidence is not helpful to your position.”
Daniel nearly smiled.
Then someone pounded on the front door.
Two men stood outside.
One wore a sheriff’s civil-process jacket.
He handed me papers.
Andrew looked confused.
I read the first page.
NOTICE OF CLAIM.
A private lender was asserting an interest in our home based on a guarantee allegedly signed by Andrew and me.
My signature appeared at the bottom.
It was not mine.
Daniel swore softly.
Andrew said, “I can explain.”
I looked up.
“Try.”
He glanced toward the process server.
“Not here.”
“Here is perfect.”
He lowered his voice.
“Marcus handled the paperwork.”
“So Marcus forged me?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You signed the guarantee.”
“We needed bridge financing.”
“For your secret company.”
“It was supposed to make us money.”
“You mean make you money.”
“I was doing it for us.”
I laughed once.
“You were doing Natalie for us too?”
His face hardened.
Lorraine stepped between us.
“That woman is dead. Stop speaking about her.”
Daniel moved so quickly that I put my arm out.
“Don’t.”
He stopped.
Then he looked at Andrew.
“You told Natalie Claire was cold. Controlling. That she refused to build a future with you.”
Andrew said nothing.
Daniel continued.
“She gave you money.”
My head snapped around.
“How much?”
“Forty-eight thousand dollars.”
Andrew looked at the floor.
I whispered, “You took money from her too?”
Daniel nodded.
“And she wanted it back.”
Then he handed me one final photograph.
Natalie was standing outside the lake cottage three days before her death.
She was arguing with Andrew.
Behind them stood Marcus.
And in the passenger seat of Marcus’s truck sat Lorraine.
The timestamp was 11:42 p.m.
The night Andrew had told me he was sleeping in a hotel in Buffalo.
I looked at Lorraine.
“What happened at the cottage that night?”
Her answer came too fast.
“Nothing.”
Daniel stared at her.
“My sister called me at 11:51.”
Lorraine’s face emptied.
May you like
“She was crying.”
And for the first time, the affair stopped being the worst thing in the room.
