Chapter 13 - The Person Mallory Trusted MostPaula cried.
Not because she was losing money.
Because she finally understood Bernice had lied.
Paula was Bernice’s youngest sister and Mallory’s favorite aunt.
She had been the one who stayed with Mallory after Elsie was born.
The one who brought soup during the divorce.
The one person Mallory had assumed could not possibly have been part of the plan.
When Mallory showed her the handwritten list, Paula stared at the number beside her name.
120,000.
“That’s almost exactly what I gave Bernice.”
Mallory’s stomach tightened.
“What did you think she was doing with it?”
“Putting it in a six-month private note.”
“With whom?”
“She said Richard handled it.”
Mallory closed her eyes.
“Did you sign anything?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have copies?”
Paula looked ashamed.
“I didn’t read them carefully.”
Of course.
Bernice had built an entire family culture around trust without verification.
Mallory understood because she had done the same.
They found the documents in Paula’s email.
The money had gone into Barrett Family Holdings.
Not an investment note.
The LLC that was supposed to receive Mallory’s house.
Paula’s hands began shaking.
“She stole from me.”
Mallory hated hearing it.
But yes.
Perhaps legally the paperwork complicated that conclusion.
Morally, there was no question.
“I’m sorry.”
Paula covered her mouth.
“I trusted her.”
“So did I.”
Paula looked at Mallory.
Then the guilt arrived.
“I helped her.”
Mallory went still.
“With what?”
Paula began crying harder.
“A folder.”
“What folder?”
“She asked me to get copies of your old tax return.”
Mallory stared.
“When?”
“Three months ago.”
“Why would you have my tax return?”
“You gave it to me when I helped you refinance your student loan years ago. I still had a scan.”
Mallory’s chest tightened.
“What did she want from it?”
“Your Social Security number.”
Mallory stopped breathing.
Paula sobbed.
“She said she needed it for an insurance form related to Edward’s estate.”
Mallory stood so fast the chair scraped backward.
“You gave her my Social Security number?”
“I thought—”
“I know what you thought.”
Mallory walked across the room.
Her skin felt cold.
Now Bernice had the identity information needed to make fraudulent paperwork look more credible.
“Anything else?”
Paula wiped her face.
“Your driver’s license.”
Mallory turned.
“What?”
“A copy.”
“Why did you have that?”
“You sent it when we booked the family cruise two years ago.”
Mallory closed her eyes.
Everything existed somewhere.
Emails.
Old attachments.
Cloud folders.
Pieces of identity scattered across family trust.
“You sent both to her.”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“The same day.”
Mallory thought of Gregory’s warning.
Change passwords.
Freeze credit.
She had done that.
But documents already existed.
“Did Bernice say what she was doing?”
“No.”
Paula hesitated.
Then:
“But Celeste was there.”
Mallory’s eyes opened.
“You met Celeste?”
“Once.”
“What did she say?”
“She barely spoke to me.”
“Did she see the documents?”
“I don’t know.”
Mallory sat down again.
“Describe everything.”
Paula did.
Bernice had asked her to come for coffee.
Celeste was seated in Edward’s study.
Brown folder.
Laptop open.
Bernice asked Paula to forward old files.
Celeste watched.
At one point she asked:
“Does Mallory still use the same signature?”
Paula had laughed.
She thought it was a joke.
Mallory felt nausea rise.
“What did Mom say?”
“She said, ‘Unfortunately, yes. She signs like she’s still twenty.’”
Mallory’s jaw tightened.
“Did Celeste ever handle the files?”
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Maybe ten minutes.”
Mallory called Gregory before Paula even left.
He listened.
Then said the words Mallory had been hoping not to hear.
“We need to assume identity fraud is possible.”
“What do I do?”
“Police report may be appropriate, but first I want to preserve evidence and get copies from Vale.”
“Can we stop anything from being filed?”
“We can put parties on notice.”
“Is that enough?”
“It reduces risk.”
“Reduces.”
“Nothing eliminates fraud attempts.”
Mallory looked at Wren and Elsie coloring at the dining table.
“What about a deed?”
“If someone forged one and attempted recording, it could create a cloud on title. It would not make the transfer lawful, but fixing it could take time.”
Mallory’s stomach sank.
“Can we check recent submissions?”
“Yes.”
“Do it.”
“I already am.”
After the call, Mallory stood at the kitchen window.
Paula approached quietly.
“You hate me.”
Mallory turned.
“No.”
“You should.”
“I’m angry.”
“That’s worse.”
“No. It’s more honest.”
Paula wiped her eyes.
“I should have asked you.”
“Yes.”
“I thought Bernice was helping.”
“So did everyone.”
Paula whispered:
“What are you going to do to her?”
Mallory looked toward Bernice’s room upstairs.
“I don’t know yet.”
“Would you really call police?”
“If she forged my identity?”
Paula looked down.
Mallory continued.
“I don’t get to pretend crimes stop being crimes because the person committing them raised me.”
Paula nodded weakly.
Then she remembered something.
“Mallory.”
“What?”
“Celeste took a photograph.”
“Of what?”
“Your driver’s license.”
Mallory’s pulse jumped.
“And I think…”
Paula stopped.
“What?”
“I think she photographed your signature too.”
Mallory went cold.
“From where?”
Paula stared toward Edward’s study.
“Your father’s old birthday card.”
Mallory knew exactly which one.
It sat framed behind Edward’s desk.
A card she had written him years ago.
Love always, Mallory.
Her signature large and clear at the bottom.
May you like
Mallory ran to the study.
The framed card was gone.
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