PART 2
“Patty, have you given anyone power of attorney over your finances?”
“No.”
She placed several documents in front of me.
Someone had called the bank seventeen times over six months asking about my balances, beneficiaries, transfers, and account access.
The phone number belonged to Trent.
Then Janet showed me another document.
A power of attorney supposedly signed by me.
It gave Trent authority over my financial accounts.
“That isn’t my signature.”
“We didn’t think it was.”
My stomach turned.
Canceling the mansion hadn’t caused this.
Trent had already been planning something much bigger.
Janet explained that there had also been questions about my life insurance, property, and estate documents.
When I got home, I immediately opened the safe containing my will.
After David died, Trent had brought a lawyer named Marcus Webb to the house. I had been grieving so badly that I signed several documents without understanding every clause.
Now I read them carefully.
One provision allowed Trent substantial control if I were ever declared mentally incapable of handling my own affairs.
Suddenly all those comments from Norah made sense.
“You’re becoming forgetful.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t live alone.”
“Are you sure you remember that correctly?”
They hadn’t simply been insulting me.
They had been building a narrative.
I called Marcus Webb’s former law firm.
The receptionist told me he no longer worked there.
He had been removed for professional misconduct.
That was enough.
I called Eleanor, an old friend who was also an attorney.
Within an hour, she was sitting in my living room reviewing everything.
Her expression grew darker with every page.
“Patty, this is dangerous. With documents like these, someone could potentially try to argue that you were incapable of managing your affairs and take control of your assets.”
I felt sick.
“My own son?”
Eleanor looked at me gently.
“It appears he was preparing for the possibility.”
We immediately began changing everything.
A new will.
Revocation of questionable powers of attorney.
Extra safeguards at my bank.
Documentation of every call, message, and forged form.
“I want the forgery reported,” I said.
Eleanor studied me.
“You understand this could have serious consequences for Trent?”
“He understood right from wrong when I raised him.”
That afternoon, I realized something important.
I had spent years terrified of losing my family.
But somewhere along the way, I had lost myself instead.
Two weeks later, Norah tried another strategy.
She sent Damon.
I was tending David’s roses when I saw my grandson standing near the sidewalk.
“Grandma Patty, please don’t be mad at me.”
My heart softened immediately.
Whatever his parents had done, Damon was seven.
“I’m not angry with you.”
“Mommy says you took away our house because you don’t love us.”
There it was.
Norah was using her own child to pressure me.
“I love you very much,” I said. “But loving someone doesn’t mean giving them whatever they want.”
Damon looked down.
“Daddy says you’re old and sad, and sometimes old people get confused.”
I swallowed my anger.
“Do I seem confused right now?”
He studied me seriously.
“No. You seem like Grandma Patty.”
I smiled.
“Exactly.”
Then he whispered something that mattered more than he probably understood.
“I’m sorry I called you a peasant. Mommy told me to say it. I didn’t like saying it.”
I hugged him.
“Thank you for telling me the truth.”
Across the street, Norah was watching from her car.
Her expression told me everything.
Three days later, Trent came himself.
He looked exhausted.
They were living in a motel after leaving their rental in anticipation of moving into Willow Creek Drive.
“Mom, we need to talk.”
“No, we don’t.”
“Five minutes.”
Eventually, I let him inside.
He began with the same argument.
I was destroying the family.
Norah was struggling.
Damon was confused.
We could still fix everything.
I listened quietly.
Then I said, “Tell me about the power of attorney.”
His face changed instantly.
“What power of attorney?”
“The forged one. And the seventeen calls to my bank.”
He tried denying it.
