Chapter 6: They Tried to Declare Me Incapable
I couldn't speak.
My name was printed at the top of the petition.
My date of birth was correct.
My home address was correct.
Even my identification number appeared in the right place.
But the medical report attached to the document described someone I had never been.
It claimed I suffered from severe emotional instability, impulsive behavior, and an inability to make responsible financial decisions.
I looked at Patricia.
"Who wrote this?""
She adjusted her glasses.
"A psychiatrist named Dr. Alan Mercer.""
"I've never met him.""
"That's what I suspected.""
Michael took the report.
"How can someone submit a medical evaluation without examining her?""
Patricia opened another page.
"According to the paperwork, Emily attended three appointments over a period of six weeks.""
I shook my head.
"I didn't attend any appointments.""
"Do you recognize the clinic?""
She showed me the address.
It was in Atlanta.
I had never been there.
My father slammed the document down.
"This is fraud.""
Patricia nodded.
"Most likely. But there's another issue.""
She pulled out a second document.
"The petition requested that Vanessa Carter be appointed as Emily's temporary financial guardian.""
I felt sick.
"She wanted control of my money.""
"Not just your money," Patricia replied.
She turned to the trust agreement.
"Under the original terms, Emily controls the properties, investments, and business interests held within the Carter Family Estate. If the court had accepted the petition, Vanessa could have gained temporary authority over all of them.""
Michael stared at the paper.
"Why would a court even consider this?""
"Because the petition included supporting documents from a licensed medical provider, an attorney, and a notarized authorization.""
I looked at the signatures.
One belonged to Daniel Brooks.
Another belonged to a notary named Cynthia Miller.
I recognized the name.
"That's Vanessa's friend.""
Patricia looked up.
"How do you know her?""
"She came to our house last Christmas. Vanessa introduced her as someone who helped with paperwork.""
My father closed his eyes.
"Of course.""
Patricia continued.
"The hearing was scheduled for next week. I received a notice because Rachel had named me as an independent legal representative in the original trust.""
Michael frowned.
"Why didn't you tell me?""
"I tried. Someone changed the contact information on the estate records. Every letter I sent was redirected.""
She took out a printed email.
"This one was particularly interesting.""
Michael read it.
The email appeared to come from him.
It stated that he no longer wished Patricia to represent Emily and that all future communications should be sent through Daniel Brooks.
My father shook his head.
"I never sent this.""
"I know.""
Patricia looked at me.
"Emily, your mother anticipated that someone might attempt to challenge the trust. She left instructions that I should contact you directly once you turned twenty-five.""
I swallowed.
"Why didn't you?""
"Because I received a message claiming you had moved overseas.""
I stared at her.
"What?""
"Someone told me you had accepted a position in London and no longer wanted to be involved with the family estate.""
I laughed in disbelief.
"I work in Savannah.""
"I know that now.""
Patricia closed the folder.
"Whoever did this knew enough about your personal information to make the story believable.""
Michael stood.
"We need to report everything.""
"Yes," Patricia replied.
"But we need to be careful.""
"Careful? They've stolen money from my daughter!""
"And if we move without securing the original records, they may destroy the remaining evidence.""
My father looked furious.
"What do you suggest?""
"First, we secure Emily's financial accounts. Second, we obtain the original medical records. Third, we identify everyone involved in filing this petition.""
I looked at the psychiatric report again.
"How do we prove I've never been treated by this doctor?""
Patricia closed her briefcase.
"I already contacted his clinic.""
"And?""
Her expression became serious.
"They confirmed that a patient under your name was registered there.""
My heart sank.
"That's impossible.""
"They also confirmed that the patient presented identification.""
Michael stared at me.
"Someone used your identity.""
I nodded slowly.
Then I remembered something.
My handbag.
The one Vanessa had left inside when she threw me out.
My wallet had been sitting on the hallway table.
She'd had access to it.
"Vanessa had my driver's license.""
Patricia looked at me.
"When?""
"Tonight. She left my purse inside the house when she locked me out.""
Michael's face tightened.
"She could have copied it.""
Patricia nodded.
"That would explain how the false patient was registered.""
I sat down.
Everything suddenly made sense.
The arguments.
The constant accusations that I was irresponsible.
The way Vanessa kept telling my father I was unstable.
She hadn't simply been trying to make me feel small.
She had been building a story.
A story that would eventually become official paperwork.
My phone rang.
The caller ID showed an Atlanta number.
I answered cautiously.
"Hello?""
A man's voice came through.
"Is this Emily Carter?""
"Yes.""
"My name is Dr. Alan Mercer. I understand there has been some confusion regarding your medical records.""
I looked at Patricia.
She immediately gestured for me to put the call on speaker.
"Who gave you my information?""
There was a brief pause.
"Your legal representative.""
"Who?""
"Mr. Daniel Brooks.""
I felt my stomach tighten.
"Doctor, I've never been to your clinic.""
He sighed.
"I understand you're upset, but our records indicate you attended several consultations.""
"I didn't.""
"Miss Carter, I have a signed intake form and copies of your identification.""
"Then someone forged them.""
Another pause.
"That is a serious allegation.""
"Yes. It is.""
Patricia leaned toward the phone.
"Doctor Mercer, this is Patricia Wells, attorney for the Carter Family Trust. We are formally requesting that you preserve every record connected to Emily Carter, including appointment logs, intake forms, payment records, and any electronic communications.""
The doctor sounded uncomfortable.
"Of course.""
"Who paid for the consultations?""
He hesitated.
"I would need to review the account.""
"Please do.""
The call ended.
Patricia immediately wrote down the time.
"Good. He knows we're investigating.""
My father paced across the living room.
"Whoever arranged this had to know Emily's schedule. They knew when she was working, when she was home, and where she would be.""
I suddenly remembered another detail.
Three months ago, Vanessa had asked me for my work schedule.
She said she wanted to arrange a surprise birthday dinner.
I had given it to her.
She'd also asked for a copy of my driver's license, claiming the insurance company needed updated household records.
I felt nauseated.
"She had everything.""
Michael stopped pacing.
"What?""
"My license. My schedule. My personal information.""
He sat beside me.
"I'm sorry.""
I shook my head.
"You didn't know.""
"I should have protected you.""
Before I could answer, Patricia's phone rang.
She glanced at the screen.
"That's unusual.""
She answered.
"Patricia Wells.""
A woman's voice came through, trembling.
"Ms. Wells, this is Cynthia Miller.""
Patricia straightened.
"The notary?""
"Yes.""
"What do you want?""
"I need to speak to you about the Carter documents.""
Patricia put the call on speaker.
My father moved closer.
Cynthia spoke quickly.
"I shouldn't have notarized those papers.""
Patricia's eyes narrowed.
"Which papers?""
"The authorization forms. The guardianship petition. The property transfer.""
Michael's jaw tightened.
"You notarized documents bearing my daughter's signature?""
"I was told everything had already been approved.""
"By whom?""
Cynthia began crying.
"Vanessa.""
Patricia asked, "Did Emily appear before you?""
"No.""
"Did you verify her identity?""
"I was given copies of her identification.""
Michael leaned toward the phone.
"Who gave them to you?""
Cynthia hesitated.
Then she whispered, "Your brother.""
My father froze.
"Thomas?""
"Yes.""
"Are you certain?""
"I have the appointment records. He came to my office twice. The second time, he brought a woman who signed the documents.""
I felt my hands go numb.
"What woman?""
Cynthia took a shaky breath.
"I don't know her real name. But she looked almost exactly like you.""
I stared at the phone.
Patricia slowly lowered her pen.
"Are you saying someone impersonated Emily?""
"Yes.""
My father gripped the back of a chair.
"Where is this woman now?""
"I don't know.""
"Did you keep any photographs?""
"There's something else.""
Cynthia's voice became quieter.
"The woman didn't come alone. A man was waiting outside my office.""
Patricia asked, "Who?""
"I recognized him from the news. He owns several businesses in Atlanta.""
Michael looked at Patricia.
She frowned.
"What's his name?""
Cynthia whispered:
"Richard Hayes.""
My father went completely still.
I looked at him.
"Who is Richard Hayes?""
He swallowed.
"He's Robert Hayes's older brother.""
Patricia slowly closed her briefcase.
"That means this goes beyond Daniel Brooks.""
Michael stared at the phone.
"How far?""
Cynthia began crying harder.
"I don't know. But there's one more thing you need to see.""
"What?""
"I found a copy of the original recording from the day the woman impersonated Emily.""
Patricia leaned forward.
"Where is it?""
"In my office.""
"Then preserve it immediately.""
Cynthia hesitated.
"I can't.""
"Why not?""
"Because someone broke into my office last night.""
The room fell silent.
My father stepped toward the window.
"Was anything stolen?""
"Only one thing.""
"What?""
Cynthia's voice dropped to a whisper.
"The recording.""
Patricia looked at Michael.
Then at me.
And before either of us could speak, Cynthia added:
"But I made a backup.""
I held my breath.
"Where?""
"On a memory card. I hid it somewhere nobody would think to look.""
Patricia immediately asked for the location.
Cynthia gave her an address in Atlanta.
Then she said something that made my father grab the table.
"There's one more person on that recording. Someone who wasn't supposed to be there.""
"Who?"" Patricia asked.
Cynthia answered.
"Emily's mother.""
I couldn't move.
My mother had died six years earlier.
The recording was supposed to be from three months ago.
Michael stared at the phone.
"That's impossible.""
Cynthia began to cry again.
"I know what I saw, Mr. Carter. I know what I saw.""
Then the call disconnected.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
I looked at Patricia.
"How could my mother be on a recording made six years after she died?""
Patricia didn't answer.
Instead, she opened her briefcase and pulled out a photograph.
It showed my mother standing outside a courthouse.
Beside her was a woman wearing a dark coat.
The woman's face was partially hidden.
But her height, her posture, and her burgundy hair were unmistakable.
I stared at the photograph.
"That's me.""
My father looked at it.
"No, sweetheart.""
He pointed to the date printed on the back.
It was six years old.
Then he turned the photograph over.
A handwritten sentence appeared beneath the date.
If Emily ever discovers the truth, tell her the woman in this photograph is not her mother.
I felt the room spinning.
My father took the photograph from my hands.
"Patricia, what the hell is going on?""
The attorney looked at him.
And for the first time since she'd arrived, she seemed afraid.
"Michael," she whispered, "there's something Rachel never told you about Emily's birth.""
I stared at her.
"What does my birth have to do with any of this?""
Patricia slowly opened another folder.
Inside was a hospital record.
My name appeared at the top.
But the name listed under biological mother wasn't Rachel Carter.
It was someone else.
Someone whose name I had heard only once before.
May you like
And whose signature appeared on the forged guardianship petition.
*Vanessa Reed.*
