Chapter 2: The Blue Folder
My mother didn't sleep that night.
Neither did I.
While Amelia rested in her bassinet, Evelyn spread the documents across the dining table one by one.
Loan agreements.
Forged signatures.
A personal guarantee form with my name printed in bold — signed eighteen months ago, when Vance and I had been on vacation in Florida.
"He knew," my mother said quietly.
Not a question.
"He knew," I confirmed.
She slid a single page toward me.
It was a bank authorization form.
At the bottom, countersigned as a witness to my supposed signature, was Vance's name.
His handwriting.
His pen.
My hands didn't shake.
I was past shaking.
At 6 a.m., a car pulled into Teresa's driveway.
Then another.
By 6:15, two tow trucks were hooking up the catering company vans — both registered as loan collateral under my name.
Teresa came flying out the front door in her robe.
"What is happening?!
Those are my vehicles!"
The recovery agent handed her a single sheet of paper.
She looked up and saw me standing at the end of the driveway, Amelia in my arms, my mother beside me holding the blue folder.
Teresa's face went white.
May you like
Then Vance's phone rang.
He looked at the screen — and for the first time in three years, he looked genuinely afraid.
