Chapter 5: Family Only
Jason arrived at my door at four-fifteen that afternoon.
He didn't knock gently.
Three hard raps, the way someone knocks when they've already decided the conversation is going to go their way.
I opened the door.
He was in a jacket and dark trousers, his hair neat, his expression arranged into something that was trying to look reasonable.
Behind him, parked at the curb, was the G63.
He looked past me immediately.
"I need to talk to Emily."
"Come in," I said.
He stepped inside.
Emily was in the living room, Grace in the bassinet beside her.
She didn't stand up when he entered.
She didn't smile.
Jason looked at her for a moment, then at me, then back at her.
"Can we have some privacy?"
"No," Emily said.
His jaw tightened.
Just slightly.
"Emily, whatever your father has told you about those documents—"
"He didn't tell me anything," she said.
"I read them myself."
"They're not what they look like."
"Then explain what they are."
He sat down across from her.
His posture was careful — leaning forward slightly, elbows on his knees.
The posture of a man presenting himself as reasonable.
"The loan was a business decision.
I needed to move quickly on the Meridian opportunity and I didn't have liquid capital.
The car made sense as collateral because it was the largest asset we had."
"That we had," Emily said.
"Yes."
"My father gave us that car."
"It was a marital asset."
Emily looked at him steadily.
"And my signature?"
A beat.
"You were exhausted after the delivery.
I didn't want to burden you with paperwork.
My mother helped facilitate—"
"Your mother forged my signature."
"She witnessed—"
"Jason." Emily's voice didn't rise.
It dropped.
"Stop."
He stopped.
"I didn't sign that document," she said.
"I signed something your mother put in front of me while I was coming out of anesthesia and told me was a hospital form.
That is not consent.
That is not facilitation.
That is fraud."
The word landed in the room like something thrown.
Jason's reasonable expression slipped.
Just for a moment.
"You're going to want to be careful about words like that," he said.
"Especially right now, when you're emotional and sleep-deprived and—"
"I have an attorney," I said.
Jason looked at me.
"He's already reviewed the documents," I continued.
"He's also reviewed the loan structure, the lender, and the account the funds were transferred to.
Both installments."
Something moved behind Jason's eyes.
"Both installments," he repeated.
"The second thirty thousand.
The one transferred four days after Grace was born." I watched his face.
"We know where it went."
He was quiet for three full seconds.
Then he stood up.
"I think we should continue this conversation with our own attorneys present," he said.
His voice had changed.
The reasonableness was gone.
What replaced it was cooler, more careful.
"Agreed," I said.
He looked at Emily one more time.
"Don't do anything you can't undo," he said.
It wasn't a request.
Emily looked back at him without blinking.
"Drive safe," she said.
He left.
The door closed behind him.
Grace stirred in the bassinet.
Emily reached over and placed one hand gently on her daughter's back without looking away from the door.
"He knew about the second installment," she said.
"Did you see his face?"
"Yes."
"He wasn't surprised that it existed.
He was surprised that we knew."
I sat down.
"Richard called while you were feeding Grace," I said.
"The personal account the thirty thousand was transferred to — it's in Diane's name.
But there's a secondary signatory on the account."
Emily turned to look at me.
"Jason," she said.
It wasn't a question.
"Jason," I confirmed.
She was quiet for a moment.
"So they planned this together," she said.
"Before Grace was born.
They used my signature — my forged signature — to borrow against the car my father gave us.
And then they paid themselves thirty thousand dollars four days after I gave birth."
"That is what the documents show."
Emily looked down at Grace.
"She's eight days old," she said softly.
"Eight days old, and they were already doing this."
The room was very still.
Then her phone buzzed on the cushion beside her.
A message from a number she didn't recognize.
*You should ask Jason what happened to the Meridian money.
All of it.
May you like
Not just what he told you.
— A friend.*
