My mother pushed.
Clare panicked.
That was the pattern I understood.
My father had always positioned himself outside the conflict.
He was the one who urged everyone to calm down.
The one who said he did not want to take sides.
Yet his name was sitting beneath a forged signature as a witness.
Daniel printed the page and placed it beside the original deed.
“Sarah, from this point forward, I strongly recommend you retain your own attorney.
Our firm represents the purchaser, so there are limits on what we can advise you.
But we will preserve everything in our file.”
He gave me the name of a real estate litigation attorney named Maya Patel.
I called her from the conference room.
Forty minutes later, she was reading scanned copies of the documents.
Her first question was simple.
“Did you ever give your mother power of attorney?”
“No.”
“Did you sign any document authorizing a sale?”
“No.”
“Did you receive any of the four hundred thousand dollars?”
“No.”
“Then don’t speak to your family about the facts tonight.
Save every message.
Screenshot everything.
Do not threaten them, accuse them publicly, or give them an opportunity to coordinate a new story.”
That last sentence stayed with me.
A new story.
