Chapter 6 - The Day Sarah Was Somewhere ElseDana's second call came the following morning.
"I've obtained the name of counsel representing Bradford Holdings," she told Sarah. "They're claiming you signed a member consent on September 24."
Sarah sat upright.
"That's impossible."
"Why?"
"Because I wasn't at the estate that day."
She stopped speaking.
September 24.
She remembered it precisely.
It had been the day of her prenatal appointment in Baltimore, when her obstetrician ordered additional monitoring because of elevated blood pressure.
Christopher was supposed to drive her.
He canceled at the last minute.
Margaret said the company had an emergency meeting.
Sarah took a car service instead.
She'd spent nearly five hours at the medical center.
"Do you have records showing where you were?" Dana asked.
"Yes."
"Good. Don't send me anything medical you aren't comfortable sharing yet. We can identify the relevant appointment times and obtain only what is necessary."
After the call, Sarah opened her calendar.
Her appointment was listed at 9:30 a.m.
A payment receipt from the car service placed her outside the medical center at 8:52.
The return ride began at 2:41 p.m.
Dana forwarded the disputed document an hour later.
It carried Sarah's typed name beneath an electronic signature block.
The timestamp read 11:17 a.m.
Sarah zoomed in.
A blue checkmark appeared beside her name.
Beneath it was an email address.
Her email address.
"I didn't sign this."
Alex examined the page.
"It says the signer authenticated through a secure link."
"That link never came to my phone."
Sarah checked her messages.
Nothing.
But when she searched her email trash, she found a notification from September 24.
Your document has been completed.
Someone had moved it there.
Her pulse accelerated.
She opened the message.
The completion notice identified an electronic signature service and an envelope number.
She forwarded it to Dana.
"This could be important," Dana replied. "The service may retain an audit trail showing device information, authentication methods, and timing."
Sarah studied the signature.
It wasn't handwritten.
Anybody with access to her email and enough personal information might have been able to approve it, depending on the verification process.
She remembered Victoria's shared tablet.
Then another memory surfaced.
Three weeks earlier, Victoria had entered the upstairs sitting room while Sarah was folding baby clothes.
"What's the name of the hospital where you're delivering?" Victoria had asked.
Sarah had answered without thinking.
"Fairmont Regional, unless something changes."
Victoria smiled.
"And your mother's maiden name? Christopher says it's on an old household form."
Sarah had frowned.
"Why would you need that?"
"Insurance records. Margaret is organizing everything."
Sarah had refused to answer the second question.
Now she wondered how many other details Victoria had collected while pretending to be helpful.
At three, Christopher called.
Sarah answered with Alex nearby, but she didn't put him on speaker.
"Why did you sign my name on the lender document?" she asked.
Christopher inhaled sharply.
"I didn't."
"Then who did?"
"Sarah, please."
"Where were you on September 24 at eleven seventeen in the morning?"
A pause.
"At the house."
"With your mother?"
"Yes."
"With Victoria?"
He said nothing.
Sarah closed her eyes.
"Christopher."
"You have to understand something. The lender needed paperwork. Mom said it was routine."
"Did you know I hadn't signed?"
"I didn't look at every page."
"That's not what I asked."
His voice sharpened.
"Do you want us to lose the estate? Is that what this is about?"
Sarah felt the familiar urge to apologize.
She recognized it before the words escaped.
"No," she said. "I want to know why my name is on something I never approved."
Christopher exhaled.
"Mom is negotiating an extension. If you start accusing people of forgery, the lender could pull out."
"You mean the lender might discover the truth."
"You're making this sound criminal."
"Somebody used my identity."
"You're my wife."
Sarah went silent.
Christopher seemed to hear himself.
"That's not what I meant."
"Then explain what you meant."
He couldn't.
That evening, Dana arranged for a digital-forensics consultant to advise on preserving Sarah's devices and account records.
The consultant explained that an email notification alone didn't identify the person who clicked the approval link.
They would need the service's records and other corroborating evidence.
Sarah appreciated the caution, even though it frustrated her.
She wanted certainty.
She was beginning to understand that certainty had to be earned.
Before dinner, another email arrived.
It was from the law office handling the proposed property sale.
Attached was a notice scheduling a closing for October 23.
Six days away.
Sarah read the purchase price.
$3,600,000.
Her throat tightened.
Christopher had told her the house was worth barely two million.
Then she reached the last page.
A handwritten note appeared beside the closing checklist.
Sarah's interest must be cleared before funds are released.
Sarah stared at the phrase.
May you like
They hadn't thrown her out because they discovered missing money.
They had thrown her out because she was standing between Margaret Wellington and a $3.6 million transaction.
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