Chapter 3 - THE SIGNATURE THAT WASN'T MINE|
"That's my mother's house."
The words escaped before I could stop them.
Daniel stood on the other side of the table, looking almost satisfied.
The document Dante held wasn't just a separation agreement.
It was a copy of a deed.
My name appeared at the bottom.
So did Daniel's.
According to the document, I had transferred my ownership interest in the house to my husband.
Three weeks earlier.
While I was still recovering from surgery.
"I never signed that," I whispered.
Daniel gave an impatient sigh.
"Claire, you signed several documents after your operation."
"Medical documents."
"Among other things."
I looked at the signature again.
It resembled mine.
The curved C.
The long downward stroke on the final r.
But the more I studied it, the more something felt wrong.
My mother's house had been mine before I married Daniel.
She had left it to me when she died.
It was a two-story brick home in Lincoln Park, with green shutters and a porch that creaked in winter.
My mother had planted yellow roses along the front walkway.
After she died, I kept those roses alive because they were one of the few things I had left of her.
Lily had grown up in that house.
Her height marks were still penciled along the kitchen doorway.
Now Daniel was claiming I had simply given it away.
"Dante," I whispered, "may I see the second page?"
He handed me the documents.
My hands trembled as I read.
There was a date.
A notary's stamp.
And a statement declaring that I had signed voluntarily.
I remembered that date.
I had been in our bedroom, barely able to sit upright.
Daniel had come upstairs carrying a tablet.
He'd told me the hospital needed another authorization for my medication reimbursement.
I remembered asking him whether it could wait.
He'd told me it would only take a moment.
And because he was my husband, I hadn't questioned him.
"Oh, my God."
Dante leaned closer.
"What is it?"
I looked at Daniel.
"You brought me a tablet."
He didn't move.
"You said I was signing a pharmacy authorization."
"Claire—"
"You knew I was taking prescription pain medication."
"Don't make this sound criminal."
My voice rose.
"Then explain why a deed has my signature on it!"
Lily stepped forward.
"Dad, did you trick her?"
Daniel ignored her.
Instead, he looked at Dante.
"Mr. Valenti, my wife has been under considerable emotional strain."
Dante's jaw tightened.
"She's asking about a document."
"She's confused."
"No," I said.
Everyone turned toward me.
I placed both palms against the table.
"I am not confused."
The pain beneath my ribs was sharp, but I refused to let it silence me.
"I remember the bedroom."
"I remember the tablet."
"And I remember trusting you."
Daniel's eyes narrowed.
Dante looked toward a silver-haired woman near the far end of the table.
"Nora."
She stood.
I'd noticed her earlier, talking quietly with several guests.
She wore a charcoal suit and carried herself with the confidence of someone who rarely needed to raise her voice.
Dante introduced her as Nora Kaplan, an attorney who had advised his family's foundation for years.
Nora approached me without touching the documents.
"Mrs. Mercer, may I ask you a question?"
I nodded.
"Did you knowingly agree to transfer the house?"
"No."
"Did anyone explain that such a transfer was part of what you were signing?"
"No."
She looked at Daniel.
"Then these documents require independent examination."
Daniel gave a tight smile.
"Are you accusing me of forgery?"
"I'm saying that a document is not beyond challenge simply because someone presents it at dinner."
Dante turned toward me.
"Claire, if you'd like, Nora can refer you to an independent attorney who handles these matters."
I looked at him.
"Would I owe you anything?"
His expression softened.
"Nothing."
It was a simple answer.
But after eleven years of having every favor turned into a debt, it felt almost impossible to believe.
Daniel gave a bitter laugh.
"This is ridiculous."
He reached for the envelope.
Nora placed one hand over it.
"Mrs. Mercer is reviewing documents that concern her property."
Daniel stopped.
For the first time that evening, my husband seemed to understand that his usual methods weren't working.
I looked toward Lily.
She was staring at the papers with tears in her eyes.
"Mom, is that why Dad made you sleep in the guest room?"
I swallowed.
"I don't know, sweetheart."
Lily turned toward her father.
"You told me she was staying there because she didn't want to be near us."
Daniel said nothing.
"But every night, I could hear her crying."
I closed my eyes.
I hadn't known Lily could hear me.
I'd believed the walls were thick enough to keep my grief private.
They hadn't been.
Then Lily said something I hadn't expected.
"I saw Elaine carrying boxes out of the attic last week."
Elaine went completely still.
I looked at her.
"What boxes?"
She glanced toward Daniel.
"The things Daniel said you weren't keeping."
My throat tightened.
"My things?"
Elaine nodded reluctantly.
"Photographs."
"Clothes."
"Some old books."
I felt the blood drain from my face.
"My mother's photo albums?"
She didn't answer.
I turned toward Daniel.
"Where are they?"
He adjusted his cuffs.
"They're in storage."
"Which storage?"
"Claire, we can discuss that later."
"No."
My voice surprised even me.
"You're going to tell me where my mother's photographs are."
Dante remained beside me, silent.
Daniel looked at him, then at Nora.
Finally, he muttered an address in an industrial neighborhood on the South Side.
Nora wrote it down.
She gave me the paper.
"Keep this."
I folded it carefully.
Then I looked at my husband.
"I want my house back."
Daniel smiled coldly.
"You can fight for it."
I held his gaze.
"I will."
For one moment, nobody spoke.
Then Daniel's phone buzzed.
He read the message.
A small smile crossed his face.
"Actually, Claire, you may want to fight a little faster."
"What does that mean?"
He turned the screen toward me.
It showed a photograph of our front door.
Two men stood on the porch beside a locksmith.
My mother's yellow roses were visible beneath the window.
And underneath the photograph was a message.
The new locks are installed.
Daniel looked at me.
"Your belongings will be collected in the morning."
Lily began shaking her head.
"Dad, that's our home."
He slipped the phone into his pocket.
"Not anymore."
I stared at the man I'd married.
And for the first time in eleven years, I didn't recognize him.
But I made myself a promise that night.
He could take my place at his dinner table.
He could try to steal credit for my daughter's survival.
May you like
He could even try to steal my house.
But he was not going to steal the rest of my life.
