Chapter 4 - THE FORGED SIGNATURE
The sterile air of the bank vault suddenly felt suffocating. I stared at the blue ink on the deed of trust. The signature read Wendy Hall, but the loop of the 'y' was completely wrong. It was Russell’s handwriting, trying to mimic mine.
He hadn't just betrayed my heart; he had stolen the roof over my head.
I took out my phone and photographed every single page. I placed the documents back exactly as I found them, locked the box, and walked out of the bank with a newfound, terrifying purpose.
I didn't go home. I drove to the elementary school where I had taught for three decades. The principal, an old friend named Sarah, let me into her office without a word when she saw my face.
“I need a lawyer,” I said, sitting in the familiar vinyl chair. “A shark, Sarah.”
“I’ll call my brother,” she said immediately. Her brother was the most feared divorce attorney in the county. “What did he do, Wendy?”
Before I could answer, my phone buzzed. It was an unknown number.
“Hello?”
“Mrs. Hall?” The voice was quiet, hesitant. “It’s Noah.”
“Noah, how did you get this number?”
“I remembered it from the emergency contact sheet you gave us in third grade. You said if we ever needed help, we could call.” A pause. “I need help.”
Thirty minutes later, I pulled into the parking lot of a rundown diner on the edge of town. Noah was sitting in a booth by the window.
Next to him was a little boy. He was small for his age, with messy brown hair and Russell’s exact hazel eyes. He was wearing a faded winter coat that was two sizes too big for him.
My chest tightened. This was Ben. The child my husband had created while I was grading spelling tests and saving pennies for a cruise.
“I didn't know where else to go,” Noah said as I slid into the booth opposite them. “Mom kicked me out last night after the restaurant. She packed her bags and left with Russell. They went to his cabin up north.”
“And they left Ben?” I asked, horrified.
Noah nodded, his jaw tight. “She does this. When things get hard, she runs. She told me to figure it out.”
I looked at Ben. He was clutching a small, plastic dinosaur, tracing its spikes with his thumb.
“Hi, Ben,” I said softly.
He looked up, his hazel eyes wide and fearful. “Are you mad at my dad?”
The innocence in his question nearly broke me. “I am very mad at him, Ben. But I’m not mad at you.”
Noah slid a folder across the table. “I went into Mom’s desk while she was packing. I thought you should see this.”
I opened the folder. It was Answer One to the financial mystery: Paige hadn't just been living off Russell; she had been blackmailing him. Inside were printed emails between Russell and Paige.
Russell hadn't just lost his business. He had embezzled money from his own clients to pay Paige’s debts, and she had kept the proof.
But Open Two hit me instantly. If Paige was blackmailing Russell, why were they going to Alaska together? Blackmailers don't go on romantic cruises with their victims.
I flipped to the last page. It was a receipt for the Alaskan cruise.
But it wasn't a receipt for two tickets.
It was a receipt for three. The third passenger name was listed as Arthur Vance.
May you like
I stared at the name. “Who is Arthur Vance?”
Noah went pale. “That’s… that’s the man Mom was married to before I was born. The one she said died in a car crash.”
