Chapter 2: The Signature That Wasn't Hers
Ryan finally got dressed and came into the kitchen like he had the right to sit at my father's table.
He looked at me and said, "Jess, it's not what you think."
I told him not to call me that.
My mother was still holding that dish towel.
She wouldn't put it down.
She wouldn't look at either of us.
I went to my father's desk and pulled open the bottom drawer.
The folder was right there.
I'd seen it before — my parents' joint account, the house title, the savings documents they'd kept since I was a child.
Except the signature on the withdrawal forms wasn't my mother's handwriting.
Not even close.
I carried the folder back to the kitchen and set it on the table in front of them both.
"Mom.
Did you sign these?"
She looked at the papers.
Her hands went still for the first time since I'd walked in.
"Jessica—"
"Did you sign them?"
Ryan stood up.
"You've been gone nine months.
You don't understand what happened here while you were away."
I turned to face him.
"Then explain it.
Right now.
Every single thing."
My mother made a sound I'd never heard from her before — something small and broken — and Ryan looked at her, not at me.
May you like
That look told me everything.
And it was so much worse than I thought.
