Chapter 5: What Dana Reeves Put on the Table
Dana Reeves had an office on the fourteenth floor with no artwork on the walls and a desk that held nothing except a laptop, a legal pad, and a pen.
She stood when I came in, shook my hand, and got straight to it.
"I've reviewed the signature on the college account withdrawal authorization," she said.
"I've also pulled the signature from your driver's license application, your apartment lease, and two other documents from the same period.
They don't match."
"How certain are you?"
"Certain enough to take it to a forensic document examiner, which I've already done." She turned the laptop toward me.
Side-by-side scans.
My real signature, looping and slightly left-leaning.
The one on the withdrawal authorization, upright, too even, like someone had copied the shape without understanding the habit behind it.
"She forged it," I said.
"That is what the evidence suggests." Dana sat back.
"I want to be clear with you about what this means and what it doesn't mean.
Forgery in a financial document of this type is a serious civil matter and potentially a crjminal one.
However, the path forward depends on what you want."
"What are my options?"
"Option one: civil suit for recovery of the funds.
We document the forgery, establish the original account balance, calculate interest over the period, and pursue repayment.
This becomes a financial matter."
"And option two?"
"Option two involves filing a formal complaint with the district attorney's office.
The forgery, combined with the unauthorized liquidation of a trust account, may meet the threshold for financial fraud and document falsification." She paused.
"That path is slower, less certain, and significantly more public."
I thought about the Christmas group chat.
The notifications still coming in.
Grandma's two words.
"Is there an option three?"
Dana looked at me steadily.
"You could do nothing.
You could take the third account, which is legally yours and accessible today, and walk away."
"And she faces no consequences."
"Correct."
I looked at the side-by-side signatures on her screen.
"She told me for years there was no money," I said.
"She watched me leave school.
She watched me work two jobs.
She used my name on a document I never signed to take money my father set aside specifically for me.
And then she spent twenty-eight years letting me believe I owed her gratitude for sacrifices she never made."
Dana didn't respond.
She was letting me finish.
"I want option two," I said.
"But I also want option one running at the same time."
A small nod.
"That's possible.
It's the stronger approach."
"How long before she knows?"
"She may already suspect something.
Gerald Foss told me she called him this morning."
"She called me twice on the way here."
Dana picked up her pen.
"Then we should move today.
I'll need a formal statement from you, access to the documents you've already found, and permission to subpoena the bank records directly."
"You have all of it."
She started writing.
My phone buzzed on the chair beside me.
I glanced down.
Ryan.
A text this time.
*Mom is saying you went to see Dad's old lawyer.
Is that true?
Call me.
This is getting out of hand, Liv.*
I set the phone back down.
Dana looked up from her legal pad.
"Is there anything else I should know before we begin?"
"Ryan said there was more than one account.
He knew about the college fund.
I don't think he knew about the others."
"Do you believe he was involved in the withdrawals?"
I thought about his voice on the phone.
The slip he hadn't meant to make.
*She even used your fund when Dad's business went south.* The way he had gone quiet when I pushed.
"I think he knew more than he admitted," I said.
"But I don't think he forged anything."
"Noted." She wrote something down.
"I'll keep that distinction in place for now."
She closed the legal pad and looked at me directly.
"Olivia.
I want to prepare you for something.
When this moves forward, your mother will not stay quiet.
In my experience, people in her position tend to escalate before they accept what's happening."
"What does escalation look like?"
"She'll go to the family first.
Try to reframe the story.
Make you the one who caused harm." Dana's voice was even.
"She's already started.
The calls this morning weren't accidental."
I picked up my bag.
"Let her," I said.
But walking to the elevator, I felt the first real thread of fear.
Not of Margaret.
Of what she might say to Grandma.
Of what she might say to the cousins who had just texted me asking what food to bring to Christmas.
The elevator doors opened.
My phone lit up with a name I hadn't expected.
Uncle James.
*Olivia.
Your mother just called me.
She says you've been lying to the family for years and that this is all about money.
She's calling everyone.
I don't know what to believe.
May you like
Please call me.*
The doors closed.
