Chapter 4
I didn't sleep that night.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Melissa standing behind my chair.
Her hands gripping the wooden backrest.
Her face showing no regret.
Then I remembered the note.
Evelyn signs on Monday.
Daniels pays Wednesday.
I knew what it meant.
They were planning to transfer my house.
But I didn't know how.
I hadn't agreed to sell anything.
I hadn't signed a contract.
And nobody had permission to act on my behalf.
At six the next morning, Marcus entered my hospital room.
His cream-colored shirt was wrinkled.
His eyes were bloodshot.
He looked as though he hadn't slept either.
“Mom.”
I reached for him.
“Come here.”
He sat beside me.
For a moment, we simply held hands.
Then he whispered, “I'm sorry.”
I looked at him.
“For what?”
“For not protecting you.”
I shook my head.
“Marcus, you're my son. Not my bodyguard.”
He looked down.
“I kept making excuses for Melissa.”
I waited.
“When she complained about your visits, I told myself she was stressed.”
His voice cracked.
“When she said you were interfering, I believed her.”
“Marcus—”
“And when Noah told me she yelled at him for calling you, I told him his mother probably didn't mean it.”
Tears filled his eyes.
“I failed both of you.”
I squeezed his hand.
“You were wrong to ignore those things.”
He nodded.
“I know.”
“But admitting that is how you begin making it right.”
He looked at me.
“I called a family-law attorney.”
My heart tightened.
“Why?”
He swallowed.
“Because I don't want Noah growing up believing this is what love looks like.”
I stared at him.
Then I nodded slowly.
My son wasn't just angry.
He was finally seeing the marriage he had been defending for years.
And that realization was breaking his heart.
At nine o'clock, my attorney arrived.
Her name was Patricia Monroe.
She was sixty-two, sharp-minded, and had handled my legal matters since Thomas died.
When I explained everything, her expression became serious.
“Evelyn, did you ever sign a power of attorney naming Melissa?”
“Absolutely not.”
“Did you authorize her to sell your property?”
“No.”
“Did you sign any medical release allowing Dr. Price to evaluate your capacity?”
“No.”
Patricia made notes.
“Then we're going to protect your interests immediately.”
I exhaled.
For the first time since my birthday, I felt slightly less helpless.
She explained that an injury didn't mean I had lost the legal ability to make decisions.
I was alert.
I understood my finances.
I knew exactly where I wanted to live.
And nobody could simply declare me incapable because I needed a walker.
“Can Melissa still sell my house?” I asked.
“Not lawfully without valid authority,” Patricia answered. “But we need to check whether any fraudulent documents have already been filed.”
Marcus leaned forward.
“What should we do?”
“We'll notify the county recorder, contact the title company if we identify one, and preserve evidence of any suspected forgery.”
She looked at me.
“Evelyn, I also want you to consider reporting the missing money.”
I swallowed.
“Melissa borrowed it.”
“Did you have repayment agreements?”
“Yes. Thomas's notebook contained the details.”
“And that notebook is missing.”
I nodded.
Patricia sighed.
“Then we'll reconstruct the transactions from your bank records.”
I looked away.
Part of me still wanted to protect Melissa.
Not because she deserved it.
But because she was Noah's mother.
I didn't want him to grow up with people whispering about his family.
Patricia seemed to understand.
“Evelyn, protecting your grandson doesn't mean hiding wrongdoing.”
I looked back at her.
She continued.
“In fact, allowing someone to continue hurting others may put him at greater risk.”
I nodded.
She was right.
After Patricia left, Marcus received a call.
Melissa.
I watched his expression harden.
He answered.
“What?”
Her voice was loud enough for me to hear.
“Where are you?”
“At the hospital.”
“Still?”
Marcus closed his eyes.
“Yes, Melissa. My mother is still in the hospital.”
She sighed dramatically.
“This is getting ridiculous.”
He stared at the phone.
“Ridiculous?”
“Marcus, your mother fell. Nobody died.”
I flinched.
My son stood.
“She fractured her pelvis.”
Silence.
Then Melissa said, “Well, I didn't know that.”
“You didn't ask.”
“Don't start.”
Marcus looked toward me.
Then walked to the window.
“Melissa, did you take documents from Mom's house?”
There was a pause.
“What documents?”
“Property records. Financial papers. Medical reports.”
Her tone changed.
“Why are you going through her private things?”
“Because someone broke into her study.”
Melissa laughed.
“That's dramatic.”
“Were you there with Peter Daniels?”
Another pause.
Then she said, “Peter is helping us plan for your mother's future.”
Marcus's jaw tightened.
“She hasn't asked for help.”
“Marcus, your mother is seventy. She can't live in that big house forever.”
“That's her decision.”
Melissa became angry.
“You never think about what's best for us!”
He stared at the wall.
“What does her house have to do with us?”
She didn't answer.
“Melissa?”
Her voice dropped.
“Everything.”
My stomach tightened.
Marcus looked at me.
Then asked quietly, “What does that mean?”
Melissa exhaled.
“You wouldn't understand.”
“Try me.”
She was silent for several seconds.
Then she said, “We have financial problems.”
Marcus froze.
“What problems?”
“Big ones.”
He gripped the phone.
“How big?”
Melissa whispered, “I can't explain over the phone.”
Marcus closed his eyes.
“Where are you?”
“At home.”
“Stay there.”
She sounded relieved.
“Are you coming?”
“Yes.”
Then Marcus added, “But not to apologize.”
He ended the call.
I watched him carefully.
“Son, don't go alone.”
He nodded.
“David's coming with me.”
Before leaving, he kissed my forehead.
“I love you, Mom.”
“I love you too.”
He paused at the doorway.
“And I promise I'm not ignoring this anymore.”
When he left, I looked toward the flowers on my bedside table.
They were birthday flowers.
Pink roses.
A gift from Marcus and Noah.
Melissa had signed the card too.
I stared at her name.
Then I remembered something.
Two months earlier, Melissa had asked me to sign a blank sheet of paper.
She said Noah wanted to use my signature for a school family-tree project.
I laughed and told her that sounded unnecessary.
She insisted.
I refused.
At the time, she looked irritated.
Now I wondered whether she had been testing how easily she could get my signature.
My phone vibrated.
A message from Clara.
“Evelyn, I found something on my security camera.”
I sat up carefully.
“What?”
She sent a video.
It showed my driveway three days earlier.
Melissa's car pulled in.
Peter Daniels stepped out.
They carried boxes toward the trunk.
Then a third person appeared.
A man in a dark jacket.
I enlarged the image.
My heart stopped.
I knew him.
He was Dr. Leonard Price.
Melissa's uncle.
The same man whose name appeared on the false medical report.
I immediately forwarded the video to Patricia.
Then I called Marcus.
He answered from his car.
“Mom?”
“Don't confront Melissa without knowing something first.”
“What?”
“Leonard Price was at my house with her.”
Marcus was silent.
Then he whispered, “That explains why she kept mentioning Uncle Leonard.”
I felt cold.
“Mentioning him how?”
“She said he could help with an emergency.”
“What emergency?”
Marcus hesitated.
Then answered.
“She said he could help prove you weren't capable of making decisions.”
I closed my eyes.
The conspiracy was becoming clearer.
Melissa wasn't merely trying to convince my family that I was forgetful.
She had been gathering false evidence to support it.
And now I had proof that her uncle was involved.
But the worst discovery came thirty minutes later.
Patricia called.
Her voice was unusually tense.
“Evelyn, we have a problem.”
I gripped the phone.
“What happened?”
“A deed transfer document was submitted to the county this morning.”
My heart stopped.
“Whose deed?”
“Yours.”
I couldn't speak.
Patricia continued.
“It contains what appears to be your signature.”
I stared at the wall.
“But I didn't sign anything.”
“I know.”
“Who submitted it?”
There was a long pause.
Then Patricia answered.
“Peter Daniels.”
My stomach turned.
“And Evelyn?”
“Yes?”
“The document names Melissa as your authorized representative.”
I pressed my hand against my chest.
“That's impossible.”
Patricia's voice became colder.
“Then somebody has forged your signature.”
I closed my eyes.
My daughter-in-law had tried to humiliate me.
She had injured me.
She had taken my money.
And now she was trying to steal the home where I had raised my children.
But she had made one terrible mistake.
May you like
She believed my age made me powerless.
And she was about to discover how wrong she was.
