Chapter 1 - The House Was Never Hers
Robert’s words landed harder than my mother’s slap.
“You do.”
Nobody moved.
Mom’s fingers loosened around the back of the dining chair. Chloe’s face had gone white enough to make the diamond bracelet on her wrist look obscene.
I looked down at the property transfer agreement in my hands.
My name sat beneath Dad’s signature.
HANNAH ELIZABETH BROOKS.
I read it twice.
Then a third time.
“This is real?”
Robert nodded.
“Recorded eight months ago.”
Mom snapped back to life.
“No.”
Every head turned.
She shoved past Aunt Melissa and crossed the room.
“That is not valid.”
Robert closed the folder.
“It is.”
“Thomas was sick.”
“He was competent.”
“He was taking medication.”
“He was evaluated the morning he signed it.”
Mom’s mouth opened.
Robert kept going.
“Independent physician. Independent notary. Video confirmation. No beneficiaries present.”
Chloe looked at me.
Not angry.
Afraid.
That frightened me more.
I said, “You knew?”
She shook her head too quickly.
“No.”
Mom answered for her.
“Your father was confused.”
Robert’s gaze sharpened.
“Linda.”
“He was dying.”
“He was not incompetent.”
“He gave away our home.”
Robert’s voice lowered.
“It was his home to give.”
Mom’s hand hit the table.
Wine jumped in the glasses.
“This was our marriage.”
“And Thomas protected certain assets separately.”
“You helped him hide it from me.”
“Yes.”
The single word sucked the air from the room.
Jason moved beside me.
“Hannah, maybe we should take a second.”
I looked at him.
For three years, that voice had calmed me.
Tonight it made something crawl under my skin.
“Take a second for what?”
“This is a lot.”
“My mother just tried to throw me out of my own house.”
“Technically you didn’t know it was yours.”
I stared.
He realized how it sounded.
“Hannah, I didn’t mean—”
Robert handed me Dad’s envelope.
“Read this before anyone tells you what Thomas intended.”
Mom lunged.
Not at me.
At the letter.
Aunt Melissa caught her elbow.
“Linda!”
“Give me that.”
I stepped back.
“Why?”
“Because you are upset.”
“So?”
“You are not thinking clearly.”
Robert’s face changed.
Very slightly.
He had heard that language before.
I saw it.
“What?”
He looked at Mom.
“Nothing.”
“No. Tell me.”
“Hannah—”
“What?”
He exhaled.
“Your father was worried someone would eventually say exactly that.”
Mom went rigid.
I tore open the envelope.
Dad’s handwriting hit me so hard my vision blurred.
Hannah,
If your mother tells you I changed my mind, she is lying.
My breath stopped.
I looked at her.
She stared at the letter.
Not me.
The letter.
Dad continued.
If Chloe tells you I promised her everything, ask her to show you the document.
If Jason tells you to leave before Robert arrives, do not go with him.
My eyes snapped up.
Jason froze.
Every person at the table turned toward him.
“What?”
His face drained.
“I don’t know.”
I read the line again.
If Jason tells you to leave before Robert arrives, do not go with him.
Jason stepped closer.
“Hannah, I swear to God—”
“Back up.”
He stopped.
Mom shouted, “Thomas was paranoid!”
Robert looked at her.
“Was he?”
She turned on him.
“You fed his fear.”
“No.”
“You poisoned him against his own family.”
Something in me broke loose.
“Stop saying poisoned.”
The room went quiet.
Mom blinked.
I continued reading.
The final line on the page was underlined twice.
Do not sign anything tonight.
My heart hammered.
“What was supposed to happen tonight?”
Nobody answered.
I looked at Chloe.
She looked at Mom.
I looked at Jason.
He looked at the floor.
Robert said, “Hannah, there is more.”
Mom moved toward the fireplace.
Too fast.
I saw paper in her hand.
Not a napkin.
A legal document.
She grabbed the long lighter from the mantel.
Robert shouted, “Linda!”
The flame sparked.
I ran.
Mom held the page over it.
I hit her wrist.
The lighter flew.
The document dropped onto the rug.
Robert stepped on it before she could reach it.
I bent.
At the top:
LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT OF THOMAS BROOKS.
Chloe whispered, “Mom.”
Robert picked it up.
He read the first page.
Then the second.
His face went blank.
“Where did you get this?”
Mom said nothing.
He looked at me.
“I did not prepare this will.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“This is not the will your father signed.”
Mom backed away.
Robert flipped to the signature page.
His jaw tightened.
Then he looked at the date.
“Hannah.”
“What?”
“Thomas supposedly signed this three days before he died.”
My stomach clenched.
“That was when he could barely stay awake.”
Robert pulled out his phone.
He opened the hospital records his office had already obtained.
His thumb stopped.
At the exact time printed beside Dad’s signature, the chart said:
PATIENT UNRESPONSIVE. SEDATION NOTED.
My skin went cold.
Robert turned the forged will over.
Two witness names.
A notary.
Then one more line.
I read it.
My lungs stopped.
WITNESS: JASON CARTER.
I looked at my boyfriend.
Jason took one step backward.
“Han—”
May you like
“You signed this?”
CUT.
