PART 3 — THE NAME ON THE DOCUMENT
I didn't sleep that night.
At two seventeen in the morning, I was still sitting at the kitchen table, staring at the copies Stanley had emailed me.
The first document was bad enough.
The second was worse.
Someone had attempted to transfer a percentage of my property without my knowledge.
But there was something else that bothered me.
The signature looked like mine.
Not similar.
Mine.
Every curve.
Every hesitation in the letters.
Even the small upward stroke at the end of my last name.
Whoever had created it had studied my signature carefully.
I called Stanley again at seven the next morning.
“Can you trace where the document came from?”
“I've already started.”
“How long?”
“Maybe a few hours.”
“I don't want anyone confronting Colin or Vanessa yet.”
“I agree.”
“And Stanley?”
“Yes?”
“If this is what I think it is, I want everything preserved.”
“It will be.”
I hung up.
Then I opened my old security records.
Three years earlier, when Colin and Vanessa moved in, I had given Colin a key to my study.
At the time, I trusted him.
Diane had warned me not to.
She had looked at me one evening and said, “Your son loves you, but that doesn't mean he'll always make good decisions.”
I had defended him.
“He's under pressure.”
She had smiled sadly.
“That's when people show you who they really are.”
I hadn't listened.
Now I wished I had.
At eight thirty, Colin arrived.
He didn't knock.
He used his key.
I watched him enter through the kitchen window.
His face was pale.
“Dad?”
I stepped into the hallway.
“What do you need?”
“We need to talk.”
“About Christmas?”
“No.”
He looked nervous.
“About the house.”
I said nothing.
He rubbed his palms together.
“Vanessa told me what you said to her mother.”
“So?”
“You really sold it?”
“Yes.”
“You can't.”
“I already did.”
“But you never discussed it with me.”
“It was never your property.”
His jaw tightened.
“You promised me this house.”
I stared at him.
“When?”
“You said it would eventually be mine.”
“I said I would decide what happened to it after I retired.”
“You knew I was planning my future around this place.”
“No, Colin.”
I shook my head.
“You planned your future around my refusal to say no.”
He looked away.
Then he whispered something I barely heard.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“Say it.”
He raised his eyes.
“You've changed.”
The irony almost made me laugh.
“No, Colin. I've stopped pretending.”
He took a step toward me.
“Dad, please. We have nowhere to go.”
“You've had three years to save money.”
“We had expenses.”
“You drove a new SUV.”
“That was necessary for work.”
“You bought a boat.”
He froze.
I continued.
“You paid for vacations. New furniture. Expensive dinners.”
“Vanessa manages our money.”
“Then perhaps you should ask her where it went.”
He stared at me.
“What are you implying?”
“Nothing.”
I turned away.
Then he said something that made me stop.
“You're not the only one who has documents.”
I slowly turned back.
“What did you say?”
Colin looked frightened.
“I shouldn't have said that.”
“Come back here.”
He didn't.
He walked toward the door.
“Colin.”
He stopped.
“Who has documents?”
He looked at me for several seconds.
Then he said,
“Ask Vanessa.”
And left.
I immediately called Stanley.
“He just admitted they have documents.”
“What kind?”
“I don't know.”
“Don't press him.”
“Why?”
“Because if someone forged your signature, they may panic once they realize you know.”
That afternoon, Stanley called.
“We found the source.”
My pulse quickened.
“Who?”
“The notary.”
“Who was the signer?”
“There was no legitimate signer.”
“What?”
“The document was uploaded electronically using information from an old property refinance.”
I closed my eyes.
“Can you identify who submitted it?”
“Yes.”
A pause.
Then he gave me a name.
I knew it.
My stomach dropped.
It belonged to Richard Hale.
My former business partner.
Richard had known Diane.
He had attended her funeral.
He had stood beside me when I buried my wife.
And he had been the person I trusted to manage several of my financial matters after Diane became ill.
“Why would Richard do this?”
Stanley didn't answer immediately.
“Because Richard was not acting alone.”
“Who was with him?”
“We're still tracing the communications.”
Then Stanley added,
“There is something else.”
“What?”
“The attempted transfer wasn't for Colin.”
My eyebrows tightened.
“Then who?”
“The beneficiary listed was a company.”
“What company?”
Stanley gave me the name.
I recognized it immediately.
It was a real-estate investment company I had heard about years ago.
I had also heard Richard mention it.
I sat down.
“Stanley…”
“Yes?”
“Why would Richard want my house?”
“That's what we're trying to determine.”
I stared through the window.
Snow covered the garden where Diane used to plant roses.
Then something occurred to me.
“Stanley, check the company's ownership.”
“I already did.”
“And?”
“That's where things become interesting.”
“Tell me.”
“One of the directors is Richard Hale.”
My stomach turned.
“And the other?”
Stanley hesitated.
“Vanessa's father.”
I couldn't speak.
Patricia's husband.
The man who had just spent weeks planning to bring thirty people into my house.
Suddenly, everything connected.
The extravagant Christmas.
The bedroom.
The pressure to spend thousands.
The assumption that I would remain home.
The insistence that everyone needed access to the house.
They hadn't simply been planning Christmas.
They had been trying to establish control.
But why?
I called Colin.
He didn't answer.
I called again.
Nothing.
Then my phone buzzed.
A message from Vanessa.
We need to talk before Christmas. Alone.
I stared at it.
Then another message appeared.
If you tell Colin what you found, you'll destroy his life.
I froze.
I typed one sentence.
What did you do?
The typing bubble appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Finally, she replied.
I didn't do anything. Richard did.
My heart began pounding.
I typed:
Then why are you afraid?
This time, her reply came immediately.
Because I know what he plans to do next.
I stood up.
Before I could respond, my doorbell rang.
I walked to the front window.
A black sedan was parked outside.
Richard Hale stepped out.
He looked directly at my house.
Then he raised his phone.
My phone buzzed.
One new message.
Don't let him inside.
I looked at Richard standing beneath the falling snow.
Then I looked at the message again.
Because it wasn't from Vanessa.
It was from Colin.
And underneath it was a photograph.
A photograph of a document.
A document that proved my son had known about the scheme long before Christmas.
But the final line was the part that made my blood run cold.
Dad, I'm sorry. I didn't know they were planning to kill you.
