Chapter 3 - The Forged Signature
I snatched the aged parchment from Marcus's trembling hands.
The dim lighting of the hallway made the ink look like dried blood.
I stared at the looping, elegant handwriting at the bottom of the page.
It was undeniably Richard’s signature, complete with the slight leftward slant he always used.
The document claimed that the original funds used to purchase Willowbrook Estate were embezzled from Arthur’s family business forty years ago.
"This is a complete fabrication," I said, forcing my voice to remain perfectly steady.
Arthur leaned against the doorframe of my husband's study, still holding the heavy crowbar.
"The federal authorities won't think it's a fabrication," Arthur threatened with a cold smile.
"If you try to evict us, I will take this to the FBI, and they will seize every penny you own."
He stepped closer, invading my personal space with a menacing glare.
"You will be left with absolutely nothing, and your precious husband's legacy will be destroyed," Arthur whispered.
I took a slow, calculated breath and looked him dead in the eye.
"You severely underestimate how much money I am willing to spend on lawyers," I replied calmly.
I turned around and walked out of the house, gesturing for Marcus to follow me.
We got back into the town car, and I instructed Marcus to drive to a private hotel downtown.
I knew it was not safe to sleep in my own home tonight with those criminals roaming the halls.
As soon as I was alone in my hotel suite, I pulled out my laptop and scanned the photograph I had taken of the document.
I sent the image to Mr. Sterling, my ruthless and highly paid estate attorney.
I paced the floor for two agonizing hours before my phone finally rang.
"Eleanor, I analyzed the document with a digital forensics expert," Mr. Sterling said immediately.
"The signature is genuine, but there is a massive problem with the paper it is written on," he continued.
My heart hammered against my ribs as I waited for the explanation.
"The watermark on that specific parchment proves the paper was manufactured in 2019," Mr. Sterling explained.
"Richard died in 2017, Eleanor."
A wave of pure, absolute rage washed over my entire body.
Someone had found a blank sheet of paper with Richard's real signature on it and printed a fake confession over it.
And there was only one person on earth who had unhindered access to Richard's old blank stationary.
It was Andrew.
My own flesh and blood had forged a document to help criminals steal my home.
I thanked my lawyer, hung up the phone, and wiped a single, bitter tear from my cheek.
The time for being a gracious mother was officially over.
I called Marcus back into the room and gave him a new set of instructions.
"I want a full background check on Vanessa's entire family, starting with Arthur," I commanded.
Marcus nodded, pulling out his encrypted tablet to start the search.
"I want to know exactly why they are so desperate to occupy a secluded estate in the middle of nowhere," I added.
It took Marcus less than twenty minutes to break through the public records and find the hidden truth.
"Mrs. Sterling, Vanessa's family isn't just looking for a free place to live," Marcus said, his eyes wide with shock.
He turned the tablet around so I could see the terrifying police report on the screen.
"Arthur is a high-ranking lieutenant for a notorious crime syndicate in Chicago," Marcus revealed.
"They are currently hiding from a rival cartel, and they are using Willowbrook as a fortified safe house."
I stared at the screen, realizing my son had unknowingly married into a violent mafia family.
"They brought heavily armed men into my home," I whispered, the reality of the danger finally sinking in.
Suddenly, a loud, violent knock echoed against my hotel room door.
I froze, realizing I had not told anyone which hotel I was checking into.
Marcus silently drew his concealed handgun and moved stealthily toward the door.
He looked through the peephole and slowly lowered his weapon.
"It's Andrew," Marcus said softly.
I ordered Marcus to open the door, fully prepared to unleash my fury on my traitorous son.
Andrew stumbled into the room, his tuxedo torn and his face covered in dark, fresh bruises.
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"Mom," Andrew choked out, collapsing onto his knees on the hotel carpet.
"You have to help me, they are going to kill me."
