Chapter 4: What Rena Knew
Mark's attorney — a woman named Claire Ashworth — arrived within the hour.
She didn't come to the venue in a suit.
She came in jeans and a grey coat, reading glasses pushed up on her head, a leather bag over one shoulder.
She shook my hand once, looked at the folder for forty seconds, and said, "Don't touch anything else in that bag."
We were in a smaller room off the main corridor — me, Mark, Claire, and Sophie, who was sitting on a padded chair eating a bread roll that the catering staff had quietly brought her.
The guests were still in the main hall.
No one had been told what was happening.
The wedding planner had simply announced a delay.
Vanessa was in the bridal suite with the door closed.
"The notary stamp is Rena Caldwell's," Mark said.
"I'd stake money on it."
Claire turned a page without looking up.
"I know Rena.
We overlapped at the same firm twelve years ago." She turned another page.
"This custody transfer is dated three weeks ago.
The property form is dated the same day." She set the folder down.
"Someone prepared both documents together.
Same session, same notary, same forged signature.
This wasn't improvised."
"She planned it before the wedding," I said.
"She planned it before she agreed to the wedding." Claire looked at me directly.
"When did your mother pass?"
"Eight months ago."
"And when did Vanessa propose moving in with you and Sophie?"
I thought about it.
"About a month after the funeral."
Claire nodded slowly.
She didn't say anything.
She didn't need to.
"She targeted him," Mark said.
"I'm not drawing conclusions yet." Claire picked up her phone.
"But I am calling Rena Caldwell right now, because if she notarized forged documents on a minor child, her bar problem just became a crjminal problem." She stepped toward the window.
"And people with crjminal problems talk."
Sophie looked up from her bread roll.
"Is the lady going to be in trouble?"
"Yes, sweetheart," Mark said.
"She is."
Sophie considered this.
"Good."
Claire was already on the call.
I could hear it ringing.
Then a voice — cautious, female, older.
"Rena." Claire's tone was completely flat.
"It's Claire Ashworth.
I'm sitting with a legal folder that has your stamp on two documents — a forged custody transfer and a property deed amendment — both involving a six-year-old child." A pause.
"I think you want to talk to me before anyone else calls you tonight."
The silence on the other end lasted four full seconds.
"I didn't know about the child," Rena said.
"She told me it was a routine guardianship update.
She said the father had already agreed."
"Did you verify that?"
Another silence.
Longer.
"She was a client referral.
She came through someone I trusted." Rena's voice had gone thin.
"I should have verified.
I know that."
"Who referred her?"
"I — I need to think about whether I can say that."
"Rena." Claire's voice didn't rise.
"You notarized a forged signature on documents that were used to threaten a first-grader into silence.
You can think about it, or you can cooperate tonight and let me help you.
Those are your two options."
The line was quiet for a long moment.
"Her name is Patricia Holt," Rena said finally.
"She's Vanessa's former employer.
They've been close for years.
Patricia told me Vanessa was a trustworthy client with a complicated family situation." A breath.
"She said the father was difficult."
I was on my feet before I realized I'd stood up.
Mark put a hand on my arm.
"Patricia Holt," I said quietly.
"I know that name."
Mark looked at me.
"How?"
"She was at my mother's funeral.
Vanessa introduced her as an old friend." I pressed my hand to my forehead.
"She sat in the front row."
Claire had heard me.
She turned from the window.
"Was she present when your mother's will was read?"
"I don't know.
I wasn't — I left early.
I couldn't stay." I sat back down.
"Sophie was having nightmares.
I took her home."
Claire looked at Mark.
Something passed between them.
"Daniel," she said carefully.
"I need you to think back.
In the weeks before your mother passed — did Vanessa spend time alone with her?"
My chest tightened.
"She volunteered to sit with her," I said slowly.
"When I was at work.
She said she wanted to help."
Sophie had stopped eating.
She was watching my face.
"Daddy," she said.
"Grandma told me something before she went to heaven.
She made me promise to remember it." She set the bread roll down carefully.
"She said, 'Don't let the lady with the red scarf change the papers.'"
The room went completely still.
Claire's pen stopped moving.
"Sophie." I kept my voice steady.
"Did Grandma say anything else?"
"She said you'd know what it meant." Sophie looked at me with her grandmother's eyes — calm, certain, already older than six.
"Do you know what it means, Daddy?"
I looked at Claire.
May you like
Claire looked at the folder.
And then she picked up her phone again.
