Chapter 2: The Signature That Wasn’t Mine
The next morning, David called while Leo was eating pancakes in our hotel room.
“The notice was delivered,” he said.
“Your father has thirty days to correct the violation or leave.”
My phone immediately lit up.
Richard.
Then Patricia.
Then Natalie.
I answered my father’s fourth call.
“You own this house?” Richard shouted.
“You signed the lease.”
“That company belongs to you?”
“Yes.”
“You deceived us!”
“I saved you.”
Patricia grabbed the phone.
“You cannot put your own parents out over one bad evening.”
“You sent a four-year-old into the snow.”
Then Natalie’s voice cut in.
“Terrence and I already moved our belongings upstairs.
You can’t stop us.”
David, listening on my second phone, suddenly whispered, “Nicole, ask when they moved in.”
“When did you bring the boxes?”
Silence.
Finally, Terrence said, “Three weeks ago.”
David inhaled sharply.
After the call ended, he sent me a photograph of a document the process server had found taped inside the entryway closet.
It authorized Natalie and Terrence to live there permanently.
At the bottom was my name.
My signature.
Except I had never signed it.
Then David called again.
“Nicole, there’s something else on the back,” he said.
“A handwritten note from Richard—and once you read it, everything changes.”
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What did Richard write, and who copied Nicole’s signature?
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