Part 2
By breakfast, I was the weak little sister again.
Julian poured coffee and smirked. “Still playing government lawyer?”
Chloe laughed. “She handles paperwork for the state. She acts like she runs the FBI.”
I buttered toast while my phone uploaded Dad’s photographs and recording to an encrypted evidence portal. They had never bothered learning what I actually did. For nine years, I had led a financial exploitation unit prosecuting guardians, caregivers, and relatives who stole from vulnerable adults.
“I’m leaving this afternoon,” I said.
Dad flinched.
Julian looked delighted. “Probably best.”
I nodded. “But first, I want to understand the care arrangement. For peace of mind.”
Chloe slid a folder toward me. She was arrogant enough to enjoy explaining her fraud.
A power of attorney bearing Dad’s signature gave Julian control over his assets. A physician’s letter declared him mentally incompetent. The new will named him sole beneficiary.
“Everything is legal,” he said. “You get nothing.”
I examined the physician’s letter. The doctor’s license number was wrong by one digit. The notary stamp on the power of attorney belonged to a woman who had died eleven months before the document’s date.
They had forged nearly everything.
I pretended not to notice.
