Chapter 6: The First Confrontation
Brandon called again at seven-fifteen in the morning.
This time I answered.
"Where are you?" he said.
"At Carol's."
"I need you to come home.
We need to sit down and talk through this like adults."
"Talk through what, Brandon?"
A pause.
"You know what."
"Say it."
"Rebecca—"
"Say what you want to talk about."
His voice tightened.
"The property filing.
Someone has filed a fraud challenge and I think there's been a misunderstanding about—"
"I filed it."
Silence.
"You forged my signature," I said.
"On October 9th, while I was in Dayton.
You used a notary connected to Brenda.
You've been planning this for at least two years.
And now you want me to come home and talk through it like adults."
"That's not—" He stopped.
Started again.
"You don't have the full picture."
"Then give it to me."
"Not on the phone.
Come home."
"I'm not coming home, Brandon.
My attorney has filed the challenge.
The transfer is frozen.
If you want to have a conversation, you can have it through him."
"Your attorney." His voice shifted.
Something colder underneath it now.
"You went to Robert Haines."
"I did."
"Rebecca, listen to me very carefully.
That land — the way my mother sees it, the way our family sees it — it was always meant to support this household.
You've been running that shop for years and it barely breaks even.
I've been carrying this family.
The land was the one asset that could—"
"That land was a gift from my father.
It is in my name.
It has been in my name for nineteen years.
You have no legal claim to it."
"I'm your husband."
"You sl\*pped me twice in front of our daughter while your mother cheered."
The line went quiet.
"Come home," he said again.
But the certainty was gone from it.
"No," I said.
And ended the call.
I sat at Carol's kitchen table.
My coffee had gone cold.
Carol was standing in the doorway to the hall, and she had heard enough.
"He tried to justify it," she said.
"He called it a household asset."
She sat down across from me.
"What does Robert say happens next?"
"The fraud challenge triggers an investigation.
The county will contact the notary.
Robert says Philip Sears will have a choice — cooperate and explain how that signature got on the document, or face his own licensing consequences."
"And if Sears cooperates?"
"Then Brandon and whoever else was in that room on October 9th has a very serious problem."
My phone buzzed.
Not Brandon this time.
A number I didn't recognize.
I answered it.
"Mrs.
Foster?" A woman's voice.
Careful.
Slightly nervous.
"My name is Diane.
I work at the front desk at Sears Notary Services in Gahanna.
I saw the county notice this morning." A pause.
"I think I need to tell you something."
I stood up from the table.
Carol watched me.
"I'm listening," I said.
"The woman who came in on October 9th — the one who signed those documents — she didn't look like the photo on the ID she presented.
I remember thinking it at the time.
But Mr.
Sears processed it anyway." Another pause.
"I should have said something then.
I'm sorry I didn't."
"Diane," I said slowly, "would you be willing to make a written statement?"
A long silence.
May you like
Then: "Yes.
I think I would."
