Chapter 3 - THE DOCUMENT IN THE ATTIC
Rachel arrived at seven the next morning.
She didn't come alone.
She brought her friend Melissa, an attorney who specialized in family law and financial disputes.
The three of us sat at my dining table.
Veronica remained upstairs.
Christopher had gone to the shop.
At least, that's what he told me.
Melissa placed a notebook on the table.
“Start from the beginning.”
I told her everything.
She didn't interrupt.
She didn't judge.
She took notes.
When I finished, she asked:
“Do you have the bank statements?”
I handed them over.
She studied them.
“These transfers are interesting.”
“Why?”
“Because Pacific Crest Holdings isn't a random company.”
“What is it?”
She looked at me.
“It's a real estate holding company.”
My stomach tightened.
“Owned by whom?”
“Let me check.”
She typed something into her laptop.
Then frowned.
“Christopher's brother Daniel.”
I closed my eyes.
So Daniel wasn't simply aware.
He was involved.
Melissa continued.
“The company owns two properties.”
“Which ones?”
“One commercial building.”
She paused.
“And your house.”
I stared at her.
“What?”
She turned the screen toward me.
There it was.
Pacific Crest Holdings had purchased our mortgage debt eighteen months earlier.
I had never known.
“Why would they do that?”
Melissa looked at me.
“Because whoever controls the debt controls the pressure.”
I felt cold.
“What does that mean?”
“If Christopher stopped making payments, Pacific Crest could force a sale.”
“But I paid half the mortgage.”
“I know.”
She pointed at another document.
“Your name is not on the latest refinancing paperwork.”
I stared.
“I never signed anything.”
“Exactly.”
Rachel leaned forward.
“So how did Christopher refinance?”
Melissa shook her head.
“He didn't.”
“What?”
“He transferred the mortgage.”
“To his brother's company.”
“And Hannah's signature?”
Melissa zoomed in.
My name appeared on the document.
But the signature wasn't mine.
I knew immediately.
“I didn't sign this.”
Rachel looked at me.
“I know.”
Melissa nodded.
“This appears to be a forged signature.”
I felt dizzy.
“How much money?”
“About three hundred thousand.”
“For what?”
“We'll have to trace it.”
I stood.
“I need air.”
I walked into the backyard.
The morning sun was bright.
Too bright.
Everything looked normal.
Birds.
Palm trees.
A neighbor walking a dog.
And inside my house, my husband and his family had apparently built a financial trap around me.
Rachel came outside.
She put an arm around me.
“You didn't deserve this.”
I nodded.
“I know.”
“Do you?”
I looked at her.
“I think I finally do.”
She smiled sadly.
“Good.”
We went back inside.
Melissa asked one question.
“Where is the original deed?”
I thought.
“In the attic.”
We went upstairs.
The attic was dusty and crowded with old boxes.
Christmas decorations.
Wedding albums.
Baby clothes we had never used.
I moved several boxes.
Then found a metal filing cabinet.
Locked.
“Do you have the key?”
I shook my head.
Melissa examined it.
“There's another way.”
Rachel laughed.
“You've been waiting to say that.”
Melissa smiled.
Five minutes later, the drawer opened.
Inside were old tax documents.
Insurance policies.
The original mortgage.
And a blue folder.
I opened it.
My hands began shaking.
It contained copies of every financial document Christopher had ever signed.
Including one I had never seen.
A life insurance policy.
On me.
My name.
My photograph.
My date of birth.
And Christopher was the beneficiary.
The policy had been increased six months earlier.
I looked at Rachel.
She went pale.
“How much?”
I read the number.
“Two million dollars.”
Nobody spoke.
Melissa immediately took the document.
“Don't touch anything else.”
“Why?”
“Because this changes everything.”
Rachel's voice was quiet.
“Hannah, did you know about this policy?”
“No.”
“Did Christopher ever mention it?”
“No.”
Melissa looked at us.
“We need to move quickly.”
“Why?”
“Because if they were planning to force you out, that is one thing.”
She pointed to the policy.
“If they were also preparing for your death, that's another.”
My blood went cold.
“You think they want to kill me?”
“I don't know.”
She looked at the document.
“And I will not speculate.”
“But?”
“But you should not be alone with them.”
That afternoon, I called Christopher.
He answered casually.
“Hey.”
“Come home.”
“Why?”
“Because we need to talk.”
“I'll be home tonight.”
“Now.”
Silence.
Then:
“What's wrong?”
“I found the insurance policy.”
Another silence.
Longer this time.
Then he said:
“What policy?”
“The two-million-dollar one.”
His breathing changed.
“Hannah…”
“Come home.”
He hung up.
He arrived twenty minutes later.
He walked through the front door.
He saw Rachel.
Then Melissa.
Then the documents on the table.
His face collapsed.
“Where did you get those?”
I stared.
“You're not even asking what they are.”
He didn't answer.
“Because you know.”
He sat.
“I can explain.”
“Then explain.”
“The insurance policy was for protection.”
“Protection from what?”
“Debt.”
“Whose debt?”
He looked down.
“My debt.”
“And if I died?”
He closed his eyes.
“Don't say that.”
“Why?”
“Because I never intended to hurt you.”
I believed him.
For exactly one second.
Then Melissa asked:
“Who forged Hannah's signature?”
Christopher looked at her.
“I didn't.”
“Then who?”
He said nothing.
“Christopher.”
He rubbed his face.
“Daniel.”
I stared.
“Your brother forged my signature?”
“He said it was temporary.”
“Temporary?”
“He needed collateral.”
“And you let him?”
“I was desperate.”
I stood.
“You were desperate.”
“Yes.”
“You lied about cancer.”
“Yes.”
“You had an affair.”
“Yes.”
“You tried to take my house.”
He looked at me.
“Yes.”
“And you took out a life insurance policy on me.”
He shook his head.
“That wasn't supposed to hurt you.”
I laughed.
“Do you hear yourself?”
He looked broken.
But I couldn't tell whether the sadness was real.
Then he said something that changed everything.
“There was one thing I never told you.”
“What?”
“Daniel wasn't the one who came up with the plan.”
I stared at him.
“Who was?”
He looked toward the stairs.
Toward Veronica's room.
Then he whispered:
“Veronica.”
Rachel stood.
“What?”
Christopher swallowed.
“She came back into my life because she knew I was in debt.”
My heart sank.
“She approached you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She said she could help.”
“How?”
“I don't know.”
“You don't know?”
He looked terrified.
“She knew things about my finances that she shouldn't have known.”
Melissa's expression changed.
“What kind of things?”
“Everything.”
She looked at me.
Then at Christopher.
“We need to find out who Veronica really is.”
That night, Veronica disappeared.
Her bedroom was empty.
Her suitcase was gone.
The front door was unlocked.
On the bed was a single envelope.
My name was written across it.
May you like
Inside was one sentence.
You should have left when I gave you the chance.
