the mortgage and household expenses.
Claire had handled most everyday banking.
The savings balance was far lower than I remembered.
“Where did it go?”
“Shell company.”
“What company?”
“Ridge Performance Holdings.”
My stomach tightened.
“Derek?”
“Indirectly. Ridge owns forty percent of Apex Predator Martial Arts.”
I said nothing.
Rebecca continued.
“And somebody took a sixty-five-thousand-dollar home equity line against your house.”
I stood.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I never signed that.”
“I suspected you’d say that.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“Whose signature?”
“Yours.”
The room seemed to narrow.
“Send it.”
The document arrived.
There was my name.
Cole Mercer.
My signature.
Except it wasn’t.
It was close.
Very close.
Good enough for someone who had watched me sign Christmas cards and insurance forms for fourteen years.
Claire.
“Becca.”
“I know.”
“How much is outstanding?”
“Almost all of it.”
“Where did the money go?”
“Still tracing.”
I stared at the motel
