Chapter 4 - The Forged Signature
Daniel took the envelope from my hands but didn't open it.
"Did you sign anything? Medical forms? Insurance papers? Power of attorney?"
"I signed hospital documents after surgery. Nothing else."
Vanessa leaned against the doorframe. "There. She admits she signed documents."
I opened the envelope myself. Seven pages. A letter from Hawthorne & Pierce, Attorneys at Law. A photocopy of something bearing my signature.
I knew my own hand. My M leaned too far right. My final n ended in a narrow upward stroke.
This signature didn't.
Close. Close enough for someone who'd studied my name. Not close enough for me.
"Durable power of attorney," I read aloud.
Daniel swore under his breath.
"It was necessary," Vanessa said. "For the family."
"You are not my family for the purpose of signing my name."
"I didn't sign it. She did."
"I did not."
"You don't remember."
Daniel's eyes flicked to me. Less than a second. It landed like a blade — not because he believed her, but because part of him checked.
I looked at the date. February 18. My surgery had been February 17.
The hospital room came back in fragments — a plastic cup, Daniel asleep in a chair, Vanessa near the window with a clipboard.
"The hospital needs another signature," she'd said.
I'd pushed it away. "Tomorrow."
She'd smiled. "Of course."
"You brought papers into my hospital room."
"Hospital papers."
"You told me they were hospital papers."
There were two witness lines. Vanessa's signature. And a name I didn't know — Cynthia Hale.
Daniel did. "Cynthia? Your sister? She lives in Raleigh."
"She was visiting."
"On February eighteenth?"
Daniel scrolled his phone. Turned the screen toward her. A photo — Vanessa and Cynthia at a restaurant. Timestamp, Raleigh, 7:14 PM, February 18.
"The receipt says twelve forty-six," he said quietly.
"You're using a social media post as evidence?"
"I'm using it as a reason to call someone who understands evidence."
He dialed.
"Who are you calling?"
"My lawyer."
"Our lawyer."
May you like
"No."
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