Chapter 2: What Was Already Done
My hands were shaking as I spread the receipts across the table.
My mother stood in the doorway, arms crossed.
"You went through my things."
"You used my children as servants at their sister's birthday party," I said.
"And you've been taking my money for months.
So yes.
I went through your things."
She didn't flinch.
"I needed it.
You have more than enough."
"Over $100,000, Mom."
Silence.
Then she said something that stopped my breath cold.
"You should be grateful I didn't take the house too.
Not yet."
I stared at her.
"What does that mean?"
She looked away.
And that's when I noticed it — a folder I hadn't seen before, sitting half-hidden under her coat on the chair.
I reached for it.
She moved faster than I expected.
"That's nothing.
That's private."
But I had already seen the top page.
My name.
My address.
And a signature that looked exactly like mine — except I had never signed anything.
My daughter appeared in the doorway behind me, still holding her little sister.
She looked at the folder.
Then at my mother.
And she whispered, "That's the one Grandma said was already done."
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What was already done — and what did my mother do with my signature?
The full truth is darker than anything I expected.
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