Chapter 6
Then Ethan said something that made the air leave my lungs.
“Then we sell part of the property. Lydia won't care. She doesn't understand what it's worth anyway.”
I stared at my husband.
He wouldn't look at me.
Dad's voice became hard.
“My daughter understands every account in this business better than you understand your own checking account.”
Ethan laughed in the recording.
“She's good with receipts, George. That doesn't mean she understands real money.”
My eyes burned.
For three years, Ethan had introduced me as his wife who “helped with a little bookkeeping.”
He had laughed when I discussed investment strategies.
He had told his friends I was too sentimental to make serious decisions.
And I had spent three years believing I needed to prove myself.
Dad had never doubted me.
Not once.
The recording continued.
“I won't sign it,” Dad said.
Ethan's voice sharpened.
“You're going to regret making this difficult.”
Martin paused the audio.
The silence was so complete that I could hear rain ticking against the window.
Brandon looked toward his brother.
“Ethan?”
Ethan rubbed his forehead.
“It's being taken out of context.”
Martin opened another folder.
“Then perhaps you can explain the context of these documents.”
He slid several pages across the table.
Ethan didn't touch them.
Marjorie did.
She glanced at the first page.
Her expression changed.
“What is this?”
“A proposed commercial loan secured against Bennett Auto Repair's real estate,” Martin answered. “The application lists George Bennett as guarantor.”
“That was never finalized,” Ethan said quickly.
“No. It wasn't.”
“Then there's no problem.”
Martin placed a second document beside it.
“This is a revised application submitted three weeks later.”
I leaned forward.
The first page contained Dad's business address.
His company name.
His approximate asset valuation.
Then I saw a signature.
My signature.
Lydia Whitmore.
I stared at it.
The letters looked almost right.
Almost.
But the L curved in the wrong direction.
And the final stroke of my last name ended with a flourish I had never used.
My mouth went dry.
“I didn't sign this.”
Ethan's chair scraped backward.
“Lydia—”
“I didn't sign this.”
Martin nodded slowly.
“I know.”
Marjorie looked between us.
“Surely this is some misunderstanding.”
Martin placed a third document on the table.
“Your father suspected that signature was not genuine, Lydia. He arranged for an independent forensic document examiner to review it. The preliminary findings identified significant inconsistencies.”