Chapter 6 - THE FORGED DEED
I stood up from the dining table so fast my chair overturned, clattering loudly against the hardwood floor.
"Rachel... wait, please!" Daniel begged, scrambling out of his chair, reaching for my arm.
"Don't touch me!" I hissed, spinning around to face him. "Where are the papers?"
"What papers?"
"The papers Gerald was looking at on the coffee table when I walked in tonight!" I demanded. "He had a stack of legal documents spread out! What were they?!"
Daniel’s face drained of color. He backed away toward the living room, his hands raised in surrender. "Rachel, don't... please, just let me explain—"
I didn't wait for his permission. I marched into the living room, grabbed the leather briefcase Gerald had left beside the sofa, and flipped the brass latches open.
Inside was a manila folder marked 1420 Elmwood Lane — Transfer of Title.
I pulled out the documents. My eyes scanned the top page, and my heart stopped beating for three terrifying seconds.
It was a Quitclaim Deed.
The document purported to transfer fifty percent of the ownership of 1420 Elmwood Lane from Rachel Moore to Daniel Hart and Gerald Hart.
At the bottom of the page was my signature.
It was an exquisite forgery—so close to my real signature that at a quick glance, even I might have hesitated. Next to my forged signature was a notary stamp from a local shipping center in downtown Portland, dated three weeks ago.
"You forged my name?" I whispered, turning around to look at Daniel, who was trembling near the fireplace.
"I didn't do it!" Daniel cried out frantically. "I swear to God, Rachel, I didn't do it! Gerald did! He brought a notary to the house while you were working a night shift! He had some woman dress up in a trench coat and pretend to be you!"
"And you signed it?!" I pointed to the second signature line—Daniel Hart, signed in clean, dark blue ink.
"He told me it was the only way to save the family!" Daniel wept, covering his face with his hands. "He said he needed to show assets to the federal investigators to keep his name off the indictment! He said if we put the house in his name, he could use it as collateral for a bail bond for Olivia's mother!"
They weren't just trying to take Emma's bedroom.
They were preparing to encumber my home—the house my father had built with his own sweat, the house that was meant to be my daughter's inheritance—with hundreds of thousands of dollars of fraudulent debt to keep a federal fraud ring afloat.
And if I hadn't come home early from my shift tonight... if Emma hadn't shattered that garage window... Gerald would have recorded this forged deed at the Multnomah County Records Office tomorrow morning.
"Get out," I said.
The words were quiet, but they cut through the room like a scalpel.
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"Rachel... please..." Daniel sobbed.
"Get out of my house, Daniel," I said, pointing toward the front door. "Take your mother, take Olivia, take your father's briefcase, and get out before I call the FBI."
