“Come in.”
Lily disappeared toward the windows.
Daniel closed the door.
“Madison’s gone.”
My stomach tightened.
“Where?”
“I don’t know. Her clothes are gone.”
“Did you know about the power of attorney?”
His confusion looked genuine.
“What power of attorney?”
I watched him carefully.
Then handed him a copy.
He read it.
His face turned gray.
“What is this?”
“You tell me.”
“That’s not your signature.”
“No.”
“And that—”
He pointed.
“That isn’t mine.”
“What?”
He grabbed the petition from the table.
The conservatorship signature.
“I didn’t sign this.”
I stared at him.
“Last night you told me you had participated.”
“I spoke to the lawyer. I agreed to an evaluation. Madison kept saying paperwork was being prepared.”
“You said you signed.”
“I said I participated. I was ashamed. I thought—”
His voice failed.
“I thought it didn’t matter whether I physically signed it. I had gone along with enough.”
I looked at Rachel’s photocopies.
Daniel’s signature.
My signature.
Both forged.
Then suddenly the shape of the betrayal changed again.
Madison had not merely manipulated me.
She had been preparing to manipulate my son too.
Daniel sat heavily.
“What loan?”
I showed him everything.
Northstar.
The attempted financing.
The liabilities.
The pending lawsuits.
He read silently.
Once.
Twice.
Then stared at me as though I had given him proof that his life belonged to someone else.
“She told me the company owed two hundred thousand.”
“It owes nearly two million.”
“Our house?”
“Probably exposed.”
“My retirement account?”
“I don’t know.”
He stood.
“I need to find her.”
“Daniel.”
“That woman forged my signature.”
“She also tried to have your mother declared incompetent.”
He stopped.
Shame flooded his face.
“Yes.”
I approached him.
“I need you to understand something.”
He looked at me.
“She did not force you to stand silently in that lobby.”
His eyes filled.
“I know.”
“She did not force you to let your daughter watch her grandmother be humiliated.”
“I know.”
“She manipulated you. That matters.”
I swallowed.
“But it does not erase your choices.”
Daniel began to cry again.
This time I put my arms around him.
Not because he deserved immediate forgiveness.
Because he was still my child.
Those things are not the same.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“I know.”
“I was scared.”
“So was I.”
“I thought if there was money somewhere, maybe everything could go back to normal.”
“Money can repair roofs, businesses, bank accounts.”
I stepped back.
“It cannot repair character. We have to do that ourselves.”
Behind us, Lily called:
“Grandma! There’s a button that opens the curtains!”
Daniel laughed through tears.
I did too.
Then his face changed.
“Wait.”
