Chapter 3 - The Forged Signature
I stood perfectly still in the sterile hospital room, completely paralyzed by the officer's shocking words.
It was absolutely impossible for Daniel to legally sell a house he didn't own.
The deed was secured tightly in the Lawson Family Trust, and only Emily had the legal authority to sign it away.
"That is property fraud, Officer," I said firmly, pacing frantically across the linoleum floor.
"My daughter has been sick in bed for weeks, and she never signed any real estate transfer documents."
The officer let out a heavy, sympathetic sigh through the phone speaker.
"The buyer is a massive corporate holding company, and their lawyers just faxed us the official closing paperwork," he explained.
"The signature on the deed perfectly matches Emily's handwriting, and it was stamped by a licensed state notary."
I ended the phone call, feeling the blood pounding loudly in my ears.
Daniel hadn't just poisoned my daughter to get rid of her.
He had orchestrated an incredibly sophisticated legal heist to steal her multi-million dollar inheritance.
I immediately called my oldest friend, Marcus, who was one of the most ruthless defense attorneys in the city.
I explained the entire horrific situation to him, begging him to file an emergency injunction to freeze the fraudulent sale.
Marcus promised to meet me at the hospital within the hour, bringing his best private investigator with him.
When he arrived, I handed him a printed copy of the original trust documents I always kept in my digital archives.
Marcus adjusted his glasses, scanning the complicated legal jargon with a deep, furious frown.
"Daniel obviously forged her signature, but he needed a dirty notary to make it legally binding," Marcus concluded smartly.
"We need to find out exactly who stamped that fake document before Daniel officially cashes the massive wire transfer on Friday."
That was the terrifying Friday deadline Patricia had gleefully mentioned on the audio recording.
The corporate holding company was going to wire the purchase funds into a joint bank account on Friday morning.
Once that massive amount of money moved offshore, we would never be able to recover a single dime.
Marcus's private investigator, a quiet man named Vance, began rapidly typing on his secure laptop.
He hacked into the county clerk's digital public records database to pull the fraudulent deed transfer.
"I have the name of the notary who stamped the forged signature," Vance announced suddenly.
He turned the glowing laptop screen toward Marcus and me.
I stared at the digital copy of the stamped document, my jaw dropping in absolute, horrified disbelief.
The official notary stamp didn't belong to some shady, anonymous criminal working for Daniel.
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The name clearly printed on the legal notary seal was Evelyn Davis.
Evelyn was my own younger sister, Emily's beloved aunt, who had supposedly moved to Europe three years ago.
