Today, while they were dumping me at that facility, I’m betting your father went to my house to get the deed, so he could move on the sale while I was locked away.
He found the copies.
He thinks he has what he needs.
He doesn’t.
The real deed is in my coat pocket, and the house is still, legally, mine.”
I stared at my grandmother — seventy-nine years old, church coat, hair pinned, three moves ahead of everyone.
“Grandma,” I said. “You planned all of this?”
“I hoped I was wrong,” she said quietly. “I set the trap because I prayed he wouldn’t walk into it. A mother hopes, Ivan, right up until the moment her son leaves her in a lobby and drives away.
He walked into it.
Now we spring it.”
Margaret was already drafting.
“First,” she said, “we void the forged POA and file an emergency order freezing every account Arthur has access to. Tonight. Second, we document the forgery formally. Third—” she looked at Grandma “—Eleanor, there’s going to have to be a hearing. And Arthur’s going to be in the room.”
