Chapter 3: The Signature That Wasn't Mine
I stared at the signature.
For a moment, I couldn't understand what I was looking at.
The document was a preliminary loan authorization request. It contained my full legal name, the property's address, and several financial details that weren't publicly available.
At the bottom was a signature.
Marcus Bennett.
It looked almost exactly like mine.
Almost.
"Nicole," I said quietly.
"Where did you get this?""
She placed another page beside it.
"From the lender's fraud investigation department. They contacted me after you authorized me to handle the ownership records.""
Tasha stepped forward.
"That's private financial information.""
Nicole didn't look away from the document.
"It concerns a loan application involving Marcus's property and his identity.""
Tasha's voice cracked.
"You have no right to show that to everyone.""
I looked at her.
"Then you shouldn't have brought it into my life.""
She stared at me.
"Marcus, please.""
I picked up the document.
My hands were steady, but my chest felt strangely tight.
The signature had the same shape as mine.
The same long initial.
The same downward stroke at the end.
But there was one detail I recognized immediately.
The letter B.
I always wrote it with a small loop at the top.
This signature had a sharp angle.
It was a forgery.
"Who signed this?"" I asked.
Nicole answered carefully.
"We don't have a confirmed identification. The lender flagged the application because the signature didn't match the records they already had.""
Tasha shook her head.
"I didn't sign anything.""
I looked at her.
"Then who did?""
"I don't know!""
Nicole turned to another page.
"There's also a copy of the identification submitted with the application.""
Tasha suddenly stopped moving.
I noticed.
It was only a second.
But I noticed.
Nicole slid the page across the table.
The backyard was so quiet that I could hear the ice shifting inside someone's glass.
The identification copy contained my driver's license information.
My address.
My date of birth.
And a photocopy of my signature.
I looked at Tasha.
"Where did you get this?""
She swallowed.
"You gave me copies of your documents before.""
"For what?""
"When we were handling household paperwork.""
I shook my head.
"That doesn't answer the question.""
She glanced at the guests.
"Can we please go inside?""
I didn't move.
"Did you submit this application?""
"No.""
"Did you ask someone to submit it?""
Her eyes began to fill.
"Marcus, you're acting like I committed a crime.""
I placed the document down.
"Someone used my identity to try to access money against my property.""
"I was trying to help us!""
"By pretending you owned my house?""
She raised her voice.
"I have lived here for years!""
"And I never asked you to pay rent.""
"I helped you when you had nothing!""
That sentence hit harder than I expected.
Not because it was true in the way she believed.
But because I had never denied that she helped me.
I remembered the grocery bags she carried into my old apartment when business was struggling.
I remembered her bringing me dinner after a twelve-hour workday.
I remembered the nights she stayed awake while I worried about payroll.
I had loved that woman.
And I had never forgotten those things.
But gratitude wasn't a lifetime contract.
"You helped me when things were difficult," I said.
"I've thanked you for that more times than I can count.""
"Then why are you treating me like this?""
"Because helping me once doesn't give you the right to steal my identity.""
A woman near the buffet table quietly placed her plate down.
Tasha turned toward Brittany.
"Say something!""
Brittany looked uncomfortable.
"What do you want me to say?""
"Tell him I'm not some criminal!""
Brittany hesitated.
Then she looked at the documents.
"Tasha, I don't know what's happening.""
"You're my best friend!""
"I know. But you told us Marcus had agreed to put your name on the house.""
Tasha froze.
I turned toward Brittany.
"What?""
Brittany looked between us.
"She said you were going to transfer half the property to her after the next refinance.""
Tasha's face went pale.
"Brittany, shut up.""
But Brittany continued.
"You told me the paperwork was already being prepared. You said Marcus was just being difficult because he didn't understand investments.""
I felt something cold settle in my stomach.
I looked at Nicole.
"Did the lender receive anything else?""
Nicole hesitated.
"Yes.""
She removed another page.
"This is an attachment submitted with the preliminary application.""
I read the first few lines.
It was a financial summary.
It listed the house as a jointly owned asset.
It also included projected renovation income from my company.
But the numbers were wrong.
Someone had inflated the company's annual revenue and used those figures to justify a larger loan.
I looked up.
"Who prepared this?""
Nicole pointed to the bottom.
"There's a contact email.""
I recognized it immediately.
It belonged to Tasha.
My throat tightened.
"Why would you do this?""
She wiped her cheeks.
"I was going to explain everything after it was approved.""
"Approved?""
She looked away.
That was when I understood.
This wasn't a casual inquiry.
She had wanted access to the property's equity.
And she had been willing to use my identity to get it.
Nicole spoke carefully.
"Marcus, the lender has suspended the application. Nothing has been disbursed. But they requested written clarification, and I strongly recommend that you preserve every document and communication.""
I nodded.
"Do that.""
Tasha stepped closer.
"You're really going to destroy our relationship over a misunderstanding?""
I looked at her.
"A misunderstanding?""
She grabbed my wrist.
"Please. Not here.""
I gently removed her hand.
"Don't touch me.""
Her expression changed.
For the first time, she seemed to understand that I wasn't simply angry.
I was finished pretending.
She glanced around the backyard.
"Everybody makes mistakes.""
I looked at the thirty guests.
"You're right.""
Then I pointed at the grill.
"I made one too.""
She frowned.
"What?""
"I spent four years believing that someone who loved me would never deliberately make me feel worthless.""
Nobody laughed.
Nobody moved.
I turned toward Nicole.
"What's the other document?""
Nicole glanced at me.
"The one I told you about this morning?""
I nodded.
She reached into the folder and removed a sealed envelope.
"This arrived at your office yesterday. I wasn't sure whether you had seen it.""
I opened it.
Inside was a printed message from a real estate brokerage.
The subject line read:
*CONFIDENTIAL PROPERTY LISTING — REQUEST FOR REPRESENTATION.*
I read the address.
My address.
Then I read the proposed listing price.
Someone had contacted the brokerage about selling my house.
Without my permission.
Without my knowledge.
And beneath the request was a name.
Tasha Williams.
I slowly raised my eyes.
She was already crying.
But it wasn't the kind of crying I remembered from our difficult nights together.
This time, she wasn't afraid of losing me.
She was afraid of losing something else.
I held up the final page.
"Before you tell me this is another misunderstanding, Tasha, I want you to answer one question.""
She covered her mouth.
I looked directly into her eyes.
"Why were you trying to sell my house behind my back?""
And then, from behind the guests, a man's voice interrupted us.
"Because she wasn't planning to keep the money for herself.""
Everyone turned.
A tall man in a navy polo shirt had just walked through the open side gate.
I recognized him immediately.
It was Tasha's older brother, Daniel.
And he was carrying a second folder.
May you like
"Marcus," he said, looking uncomfortable.
"There's something you need to know about what my sister promised me.""
