Chapter 3 - The Forged Signature
The trap required bait.
A week later, Harper returned with the final Power of Attorney documents. She had bypassed the hospital's legal department entirely, bringing her own notary—a nervous-looking woman who clearly owed Marcus a favor.
"Just sign here, Aunt Evelyn," Harper said, guiding a thick blue pen into my hand. "This just allows me to pay the nurses."
I looked at the document. It was a complete surrender of my financial, medical, and legal rights. It would give Harper the authority to drain my accounts, sell my home, and lock me in a Medicaid-funded facility while she pocketed the profits.
"My hand hurts," I mumbled, playing the frail victim.
"Just try, Auntie," Harper urged, her voice hardening with impatience. "Just sign your name."
I put the pen to the paper. But I didn't sign my normal signature. I used a specific, jagged signature I had developed decades ago during undercover sting operations. It was a legally recognized 'duress signature' on file with my old department. To the untrained eye, it looked like the shaky handwriting of a sick old woman. To a handwriting analyst or a judge, it was a screaming red flag that the document was being signed under coercion.
The nervous notary stamped the paper, keeping her eyes glued to the floor.
May you like
"Perfect," Harper snatched the paper away, her eyes flashing with pure, unadulterated greed. "I'll take it from here."
As soon as they left, I pulled my burner phone from beneath my mattress and texted Detective Miller: The hook is set.
