Chapter 6: The Day Brandon Stopped Smiling
Patricia filed the emergency asset freeze on a Thursday morning.
By Thursday afternoon, Brandon's attorney had called her office four times.
I was sitting across from Patricia when the fifth call came in.
She put it on speaker.
"Ms.
Owens." The voice was smooth, unhurried.
"I'm calling on behalf of Mr.
Brandon Miller.
We believe there's been a significant misunderstanding regarding the asset freeze, and we'd like to discuss a resolution before this escalates unnecessarily."
"I'm listening," Patricia said.
"Mr.
Miller is prepared to return the funds transferred from the joint account, in full, in exchange for a withdrawal of the fraud complaint and a clean dissolution of the marriage."
Patricia looked at me.
I shook my head.
"Mr.
Miller's offer doesn't address the forged deed, the forged power of attorney, the forged authorization presented to Hargrove and Associates, or the coordinated transfer of marital assets to third parties," Patricia said.
"A return of the savings doesn't resolve a criminal matter."
A pause.
"My client believes the Prosecutor's Office will find the evidence insufficient to—"
"Your client's cousin was recorded on security camera entering a law firm using a forged document bearing my client's signature," Patricia said.
"That recording has already been submitted.
We're past the negotiation stage, counselor."
The line went quiet for a moment.
"I'll relay that to my client."
Patricia ended the call.
"He'll try something else now," she said.
"When the money offer doesn't work, they escalate."
She was right.
It took less than twenty-four hours.
My father called me the next morning.
"Chloe.
Brandon just filed a police report.
He's claiming your father assaulted him during the incident at the apartment.
He's asking for a restraining order against Howard."
I called Patricia immediately.
"Expected," she said.
"He's trying to neutralize your father as a witness and create emotional pressure on you.
Don't react.
Don't contact Brandon.
Let me handle the restraining order application — it won't survive once I submit the body camera footage from the responding officers that morning."
"There's body camera footage?"
"There's always body camera footage," Patricia said.
"I requested it on day one."
Two days later, Patricia arranged a meeting.
Not with Brandon's attorney.
With Brandon directly, at Patricia's office, with both attorneys present.
Brandon came in wearing a jacket and tie.
He looked composed.
He sat down across from me and for the first time since the morning at the apartment, I saw his face without a door between us.
He glanced at the folder in front of Patricia.
"This is unnecessary," he said.
"Chloe, we can settle this between ourselves."
"You forged my signature fourteen months ago on a power of attorney," I said.
"You used it to access my grandfather's estate records.
You forged a property deed.
You emptied our joint account the night my mother was in the emergency room.
And you filed for divorce six weeks ago without telling me."
He didn't answer.
"You weren't leaving me," I said.
"You were robbing me.
There's a difference."
His attorney put a hand on his arm.
Brandon leaned forward slightly.
"You can't prove the power of attorney is forged.
You signed a lot of documents.
You won't remember every one."
"A forensic document examiner has already compared it to fourteen verified samples of my signature," Patricia said.
"The report is complete.
It goes to the Prosecutor's Office Monday morning."
Brandon's composure slipped.
Just slightly.
His eyes moved to his attorney.
"What do you actually want?" he said.
His voice had changed.
The smoothness was gone.
"I want the apartment deed reversed," I said.
"I want the Annapolis property sale reversed and the funds returned.
I want the power of attorney voided on record.
And I want the divorce to proceed with full financial disclosure."
"And if I agree to all of that?"
"Then your cooperation will be noted," Patricia said.
"It won't stop the criminal referral.
But it will be noted."
Brandon sat back.
He looked at me for a long moment.
"I underestimated you," he said.
"Yes," I said.
"You did."
He stood up.
His attorney gathered the papers.
At the door, Brandon paused.
"Brenda doesn't know about the Pratt Street property," he said quietly.
"She thought she was getting the house.
That's all she wanted."
He left without waiting for a response.
The door closed.
May you like
Patricia looked at me.
"He just gave us Brenda."
