Chapter 4: The Document My Mother Had Been Hiding
Harper didn't drive home immediately.
She sat in the bank's parking lot with her phone pressed against her ear, staring at the steering wheel.
"Linda, I need you to tell me exactly what Mom said.""
Her aunt sighed.
"She said Evan was going to take over the house eventually. She told me you wanted to start fresh somewhere else.""
"I never said that.""
"I believe you, sweetheart.""
"Did she mention a document?""
"Yes. She said you had signed something agreeing to transfer the property to Evan. She even told me the paperwork was already being handled.""
Harper closed her eyes.
"Did she say when?""
"About two months ago. Maybe a little longer.""
Two months.
That was around the time Diane had started asking Harper strange questions.
Had she updated her will?
Did she have a beneficiary listed on the house?
Would she ever consider moving closer to work?
Harper had dismissed those conversations as ordinary curiosity.
Now they sounded different.
"Linda, did Mom show you the document?""
"No. But she sounded very certain.""
Harper swallowed.
"Please don't tell her we talked.""
"Why?""
"Because I need to find out what she has before she knows I'm looking.""
After ending the call, Harper opened her banking app and checked her recent transactions.
Nothing unusual.
She opened her email.
Nothing obvious.
Then she remembered something.
Six months earlier, Diane had asked to borrow a folder containing copies of Harper's property documents.
She'd said she needed them to update the household insurance information.
Harper had handed over the folder without thinking.
Her mother had returned it a few days later.
At least, Harper had assumed she had.
Harper started the car.
She wasn't going home to argue.
She was going home to look.
When she arrived, the front door was unlocked.
She stepped inside and heard laughter coming from her bedroom.
Evan's laughter.
Brooke's voice followed.
"Put the television over there. It'll look better.""
Harper walked down the hallway.
Her bedroom door was open.
Evan had removed her curtains. Brooke was sitting cross-legged on the bed, scrolling through furniture websites.
A cardboard box sat beside the dresser.
Harper recognized the label.
*HARPER — OLD PAPERS.*
She stopped.
"Who packed that?""
Evan looked over.
"Mom.""
"Where did she get those?""
"From the closet.""
Harper walked toward the box.
Brooke put her phone down.
"Can you not come in here every five minutes?""
Harper ignored her.
She opened the box.
Inside were old tax returns, insurance statements, mortgage correspondence, and copies of documents from the day she purchased the property.
She checked the bottom.
The original property deed wasn't there.
Neither was the folder containing the title insurance paperwork.
Harper straightened.
"Where are my original documents?""
Evan shrugged.
"Ask Mom.""
"Where is she?""
"Kitchen.""
Harper picked up the box and carried it out.
Diane was standing at the kitchen island, spreading butter on toast.
She didn't look surprised to see her daughter.
"You're back.""
"Where are my original property documents?""
Diane put the knife down.
"What documents?""
"The deed. The title paperwork. The folder I gave you six months ago.""
Diane wiped her hands on a dish towel.
"I don't know.""
"You borrowed them.""
"I said I don't know.""
Harper placed the box on the counter.
"Then why are my papers packed in here?""
Diane glanced inside.
"Oh, those were just taking up space.""
Harper stared at her.
"Where are the originals?""
Diane picked up her coffee.
"You're becoming very aggressive.""
"Answer the question.""
"Don't raise your voice in my kitchen.""
Harper looked around.
The kitchen had been renovated with money from her savings.
The new cabinets.
The granite countertops.
The refrigerator Diane had insisted was necessary.
Even the coffee machine.
Harper had paid for all of it.
Yet her mother stood there claiming the room as if Harper were an unwanted visitor.
"Mom, I need my documents.""
Diane set down her cup.
"Why don't you trust me?""
"Because I found a loan application with my forged signature.""
Diane's face tightened.
"That has nothing to do with the house.""
"Then you won't mind telling me where the deed is.""
For several seconds, neither woman moved.
Then Diane walked toward the hallway.
"Come with me.""
Harper followed her into the small home office.
The room had originally been Harper's workspace. Diane had gradually filled it with family photographs, old bills, and storage boxes.
She opened the bottom drawer of a filing cabinet.
"Here.""
She pulled out a brown envelope.
Harper reached for it.
Diane held on.
"Before you start accusing me of things, you need to understand that I was only trying to protect the family.""
"Let go of the envelope.""
Diane released it.
Harper opened the flap.
There were copies of her mortgage statement and property tax records.
But beneath them was something else.
A document titled:
*QUITCLAIM DEED.*
Harper's eyes moved to the names.
Grantor: Harper.
Grantee: Evan.
Her brother's full legal name appeared beneath hers.
The property address was correct.
The parcel number was correct.
And at the bottom was a signature.
Harper's signature.
She stared at it.
Then she checked the date.
It had been signed three months earlier.
Harper's voice barely came out.
"What is this?""
Diane folded her arms.
"It's a family arrangement.""
"You transferred my house to Evan?""
"No. It's just paperwork.""
"Why does it say quitclaim deed?""
"Your aunt said it was the easiest way to organize things.""
"My aunt?""
Diane looked away.
Harper took out her phone and photographed every page.
"Did you file this?""
Diane stepped forward.
"Put your phone away.""
"Did you file this?""
"It's not your business to interrogate me.""
Harper looked up.
"It's my property!""
Diane's expression changed.
"Don't forget who raised you.""
Harper shook her head.
"Stop using that sentence every time I ask you a question.""
She photographed the signature again.
Then she noticed a stamp on the final page.
A notary's seal.
And a date.
Her throat tightened.
"Mom, where did I supposedly sign this?""
Diane didn't answer.
"Where?""
"At the house.""
"When?""
"One afternoon.""
Harper remembered that afternoon.
She had been at the hospital.
She had worked a fourteen-hour shift and hadn't returned until nearly midnight.
She looked at Diane.
"I wasn't home that day.""
"You probably forgot.""
"I was at work.""
"Then perhaps you came home afterward.""
"I have my work records.""
Diane stepped closer.
"Harper, you're making a terrible mistake. Evan needs this house more than you do.""
Harper carefully placed the document inside the envelope.
"That's not your decision.""
She walked out of the office.
Behind her, Diane called:
"Your brother is your family! What are you going to do when you need him someday?""
Harper stopped at the front door.
She turned just enough to look back.
"I hope he doesn't forge my signature.""
Then she left.
Twenty minutes later, she was sitting across from a real estate attorney named Melissa Grant.
Melissa examined the photocopies without speaking.
She checked the dates.
The property description.
The notary information.
Finally, she looked at Harper.
"Did you sign this document?""
"No.""
"Did you authorize anyone to sign on your behalf?""
"No.""
"Did you ever agree to transfer ownership to your brother?""
"Never.""
Melissa placed the document on her desk.
"Then we need to establish whether this was recorded and obtain the official land records immediately.""
Harper leaned forward.
"What happens if it was?""
Melissa held her gaze.
"An unauthorized or forged deed does not automatically make the transfer valid. But we need to act quickly to protect your title and prevent further transactions.""
Harper nodded.
Melissa reached for her computer.
Then she stopped.
"There's one more thing.""
"What?""
"The notary's name on this document is someone you may want to look into.""
Harper glanced at the stamp.
The name was familiar.
It belonged to a woman who lived three streets away.
May you like
A close friend of Diane's.
And according to the date on the document, she had supposedly witnessed Harper signing away her house.
