Her expression shifted slightly.
“I don’t know.”
“Think, please.”
She closed her eyes, trying to remember.
“Maybe some forms.”
“What forms?”
“I think something for the bank.”
My stomach dropped.
“Why would Jason bring you bank forms?”
Mom looked genuinely confused.
“He said he was helping.”
At sunrise, I called our family attorney, Denise.
She had handled Dad’s estate years earlier, and I trusted her completely.
When I explained everything Tyler had told me, she interrupted before I could finish.
“Don’t confront Jason yet.”
By 8:30 that morning, I had Mom, Tyler, and every financial document I could find sitting inside Denise’s office.
Denise spoke to Mom slowly and carefully.
“Did you knowingly give Jason permission to access or manage any of your accounts?”
Mom frowned.
“No.”
“Did he explain that any of the papers you signed could give him that kind of access?”
“No.”
