Chapter 2: The Signature That Wasn't Mine
I zoomed in on the photograph until the letters blurred.
Eighty-four thousand dollars.
The document appeared to be a private education loan agreement, supposedly signed by me during my sophomore year. My name was printed beneath a signature that looked almost identical to mine.
Almost.
I knew every curve of my handwriting. I had spent four years signing scholarship forms, financial aid applications, and examination papers.
The signature on that document had one mistake.
I never crossed the final stroke of my middle initial that way.
Someone had copied my name.
My phone rang again.
Ryan.
This time, I answered.
"What is this?"" I demanded.
"Where are you?""
"That isn't an answer, Ryan.""
He exhaled sharply. In the background, I could hear my mother crying.
"Just come home, Em.""
"I have a flight tomorrow morning.""
"What?""
"I'm moving to Boston.""
Silence.
Then he said, "You can't leave right now.""
I laughed, but there was no humor in it.
"You missed my graduation to eat cake with Madison. Now you're telling me I can't leave?""
"Emily, this is serious.""
"So is my life. I just started it without you.""
He lowered his voice.
"Mom and Dad didn't know the university was going to call them today. Apparently, they received a notice about the loan. There's a problem with the payments.""
"What loan?""
"I don't know all the details.""
"Then why are you calling me?""
"Because the document has your signature!""
"Ryan, I never borrowed eighty-four thousand dollars.""
Another silence.
When he spoke again, his voice had changed.
"Are you sure?""
The question hurt more than I expected.
"You're asking whether I'm sure someone forged my signature?""
"I'm asking because Dad says you signed it when you were eighteen.""
"I was eighteen and working thirty hours a week to pay for textbooks. I didn't take out an eighty-four-thousand-dollar loan.""
"Maybe you forgot.""
"Maybe you should stop believing everything Dad tells you.""
I hung up.
For several minutes, I sat on the floor beside my packed suitcase, staring at the document.
Then I called the university's financial aid office.
A woman named Ms. Bennett answered after I explained the situation.
"Emily, I can see that your account has a financial hold associated with a private education loan," she said.
"However, the university didn't originate that loan.""
"Who did?""
"I can't discuss all the details over the phone without verifying your identity. But I can tell you that the account was linked to your student profile during your second year.""
"Was the money paid directly to the university?""
"Part of it appears to have been.""
My heart began pounding.
"What does that mean?""
"It means you should request the original loan agreement from the lender immediately. If you believe your signature was forged, you should also ask for a formal investigation.""
I gripped the phone.
"Ms. Bennett, I paid my tuition myself. Every semester.""
"I can see payments from your checking account, yes.""
"Then why would there be another loan?""
"I don't know, Emily. But there's something else you should know. Your student account received an adjustment after the loan was processed.""
"What kind of adjustment?""
"A credit was applied to your tuition balance. The remaining funds were disbursed elsewhere.""
"Where?""
"I can't access the recipient information from this screen. You'll need to contact the lender.""
I thanked her and ended the call.
My apartment was silent except for the ticking wall clock.
I had paid my own tuition while someone apparently borrowed money in my name.
Someone had received the funds.
Someone had signed the documents.
And my family had known about it long before that night, whether they admitted it or not.
I opened my banking app and scrolled through four years of transactions. Every semester, there were payments labeled UNIVERSITY TUITION. Thousands of dollars, taken from wages earned during late-night shifts.
I remembered Mom asking me to contribute more to household expenses when Dad's business struggled. I remembered Ryan borrowing money for a car repair and never paying it back. I remembered Madison's sudden designer handbag collection during the year she claimed she was "broke.""
At the time, I had told myself none of it mattered.
We were family.
I had believed that if I gave enough, eventually they would give something back.
My phone buzzed.
A message from Madison.
Mom says you're throwing a tantrum because we celebrated my birthday. Seriously, Emily? You always have to ruin everything.
I stared at the message.
Then I typed, Did you know someone took out a loan in my name?
Three dots appeared.
Disappeared.
Appeared again.
Finally, she replied.
What loan?
I sent her the photograph.
She didn't respond for almost two minutes.
Then my phone rang.
Madison's voice came through in a whisper.
"Emily, where did you get that?""
"Ryan sent it.""
"Don't tell Mom I called you.""
My entire body went cold.
"Why?""
"Because she's already freaking out.""
"Madison, what do you know?""
"I don't know anything about a loan.""
"Then why are you whispering?""
"I just—" She stopped. I heard a door close on her end.
"Look, I remember Dad talking about some financial paperwork years ago. He said it was to help the family.""
"Help the family how?""
"I don't know.""
"Did you get money from it?""
"Emily, stop interrogating me!""
"Did you?""
She began crying.
Not the theatrical crying she used whenever Dad refused to buy her something. This sounded raw, frightened, and unfamiliar.
"I didn't ask for any of this," she whispered.
"Ask for what?""
Before she could answer, I heard Mom shouting her name in the background.
Madison gasped.
"I have to go.""
"Madison, wait—"
The call ended.
I immediately called her back, but she rejected it.
A moment later, a message arrived from an unknown number.
Stop asking questions about the loan. You don't understand what you're getting yourself into.
I read it three times.
Then another message appeared.
If you want the truth, ask your father what happened to the money deposited into his business account.
I stood so abruptly that my suitcase toppled over.
My father had spent years telling everyone he was a self-made businessman. He complained about bills, borrowed money from relatives, and insisted our family couldn't afford luxuries.
Yet Madison had just received a brand-new Mercedes.
And someone had borrowed $84,000 in my name.
I looked again at the signature on the document.
The forgery was good, but it wasn't perfect.
Whoever had done it knew me well enough to imitate my handwriting.
Someone who had access to my old paperwork.
Someone who knew my birthday, my Social Security number, and the name of my first bank.
Someone inside my own house.
I called Ryan one last time.
He answered immediately.
"Emily?""
"Tell me the truth. Who submitted that loan application?""
"I don't know.""
"Then tell Dad I'm reporting it as fraud.""
"Don't do that!""
His sudden shout made me freeze.
"Why not?""
"Because if you report it, the police will start asking questions about everyone.""
"Everyone who?""
He didn't answer.
"Ryan, what are you hiding?""
I heard a chair scrape against the floor.
Then his voice dropped to a whisper.
"Emily, I saw the original paperwork years ago. Dad told me it was temporary. He said he'd repay everything before you ever found out.""
"Repay what?""
"The money wasn't used for your tuition.""
My fingers went numb.
"Where did it go?""
Ryan inhaled shakily.
"Most of it went toward Madison's car and the down payment on the house. But that's not the worst part.""
"What could possibly be worse?""
He paused.
"Emily, the university isn't the only place that received your signature.""
A notification appeared on my laptop.
An email from a credit monitoring service.
*URGENT: NEW CREDIT APPLICATION DETECTED.*
The application had been submitted that afternoon.
May you like
The requested amount was $120,000.
And the applicant's name was mine.
