Chapter 2 - The Impossible Forgery
I stared at the impossible date on the forged legal document in absolute shock.
There was absolutely no way I could have signed a property transfer while on life support.
Mark stood beside my parents with a triumphant, sickening smile plastered across his face.
He knew exactly what he was doing, and he was thoroughly enjoying my public humiliation.
I addressed the judge calmly, stating that the signature was a complete and total forgery.
I explained that my military medical records would easily prove I was unconscious on that specific date.
Mark immediately interrupted me, smoothly telling the judge that trauma often clouds a soldier's memory.
He boldly suggested that I had actually signed the paperwork right before my deployment and simply misdated it in my rush.
My father nodded aggressively, claiming I had gifted them the house to make amends for abandoning the family.
The blatant lies made my bad knee ache with a sudden, intense pulse of stress.
Judge Simmons sighed heavily and stated that he could not dismiss a notarized legal document without a formal investigation.
He slammed his wooden gavel and ordered a temporary recess until the following morning.
I walked out of the courtroom, keeping my posture perfectly straight despite the overwhelming anger boiling inside me.
I needed to figure out how they had managed to get my exact signature and a legitimate notary stamp.
I drove my truck directly to the local county clerk's office to request a copy of the original deed.
The young clerk behind the glass window typed my name into the ancient computer system.
She frowned and told me that the property file had been completely sealed by an emergency court order just an hour ago.
I asked her who had the legal authority to seal a basic residential property deed.
She pointed to a name on her screen, and my heart immediately sank into my stomach.
The emergency order had been signed by the local Chief of Police.
I realized my parents were heavily involved in something much darker than a simple family real estate dispute.
I walked back to my truck and dialed the number of an old Navy intelligence buddy who owed me a favor.
I asked him to run a quiet, off-the-books background check on my parents' recent financial activities.
Ten minutes later, my phone buzzed with an encrypted message containing massive offshore bank statements.
My parents were completely broke and deeply drowning in over three million dollars of illegal gambling debt.
They owed the massive sum to a notorious coastal crime syndicate known for unforgiving violence.
May you like
I looked at the final page of the financial report and gasped out loud.
The crime syndicate had already lined up a shell corporation to purchase my farmhouse for exactly three million dollars by the end of the week.
