Chapter 4: The Transfer That Never Should Have Happened
“Your wife told us the house had already been transferred.””
The young woman’s words hung in the doorway.
Samuel Price turned toward her so sharply that his briefcase struck the doorframe.
“Emily, get in the car.””
She didn't move.
Daniel stepped onto the porch.
“Who are you?””
“Emily Carter,” she answered.
“I work at Price Family Medical.””
Samuel's face darkened.
“She is an administrative assistant. She has no understanding of the legal process.””
“Then why did you bring her here?”” I asked.
He ignored me and reached for the envelope in her hands.
Emily pulled it against her chest.
“You told me to bring these records to Mr. Bennett,” she said.
“You said he needed to sign a confirmation.””
“Give me the envelope.””
“No.””
That single word appeared to surprise everyone, including Emily herself.
I opened the door completely.
“Both of you, come inside. We have a great deal to discuss.””
Samuel entered first, his polished shoes clicking across the hardwood floor. Emily followed, looking as though she regretted every step.
Daniel remained beside me.
“Dad, should we let him in?””
“He's already here.””
I gestured toward the living room.
“Sit down, Samuel.””
He chose the sofa nearest the door.
I sat in my armchair, keeping the coffee table between us. Daniel stood beside the bookshelf, directly beneath the hidden camera.
Emily placed the envelope on the table.
Samuel reached for it.
“Those are confidential medical records.””
“Medical records concerning whom?”” I asked.
He stopped.
Emily swallowed.
“They aren't medical records,” she said quietly.
“They're copies of the property documents Vanessa sent to our office.””
Samuel shot her a furious look.
“That's enough.””
“No,” Daniel said.
“It isn't.””
He leaned forward, his hands braced against the table.
“Did my wife tell you that my father's house had been transferred?””
Emily nodded.
“She said the ownership paperwork had been completed and that your father had agreed to everything.””
“That's impossible,” I said.
“I haven't signed a single document.””
Emily opened the envelope and removed several pages.
The first was a company registration certificate. The second was a property transfer application. The third contained a photocopy of my signature.
My stomach tightened.
It looked like mine.
The slant of the R. The narrow loop in the B. Even the small mark I habitually made beneath the final letter of my surname.
But I had never signed that page.
Daniel picked it up.
“Dad, is this your signature?””
“No.””
He stared at the paper.
“It's nearly identical.””
“Nearly identical isn't the same as authentic.””
Samuel folded his hands.
“Richard, these matters are best handled by qualified professionals. I suggest you allow the court-appointed process to continue.””
“Who appointed anyone?”” Daniel demanded.
Samuel said nothing.
I turned to Emily.
“Where did these documents come from?””
“Vanessa emailed them to our office. She asked Dr. Price to review the medical certificate and confirm that you were experiencing cognitive decline.””
“Did he examine me?””
Emily looked at Samuel.
“No.””
Samuel stood.
“This conversation is over.””
Daniel moved between him and the door.
“You came into my father's house threatening him with a court proceeding. You're not leaving until you answer one question.””
Samuel's expression hardened.
“Move.””
“Did you sign that certificate without examining him?””
“Daniel,” I warned.
My son stepped aside, but he didn't retreat.
Samuel straightened his jacket.
“I signed a professional assessment based on information provided to me.””
“By your daughter?”” I asked.
“By family members who expressed legitimate concerns.””
“Then you should have no difficulty identifying the evidence supporting those concerns.””
His lips tightened.
“You're making a serious mistake by treating this as a personal dispute.””
“No,” I replied.
“You made that mistake when you put your professional signature on a document about a man you never examined.””
Emily suddenly reached into the envelope again.
“There is something else.””
Samuel turned.
“Emily, don't.””
She placed a printed email on the table.
The sender was Vanessa.
The subject line read: *Final Steps Before Filing.*
I read it twice.
Vanessa had instructed Emily to send the documents to a private company registered under Daniel's name. She had also asked whether the company could receive the property before the court reviewed my mental capacity.
One sentence had been highlighted in yellow.
Once Richard is declared incapable, Daniel can act as the authorized representative, and the transfer will be much harder to challenge.
Daniel sat down slowly.
“She planned this before Sunday.””
Emily nodded.
“I thought it was an inheritance arrangement. I didn't realize she was trying to force the transfer.””
Samuel snatched the email from the table.
“You have no idea what you're accusing people of.””
“Put that down,” I said.
He looked at me.
For the first time since arriving, he seemed uncertain.
I took out my phone and photographed the email before he could tear it.
“Margaret Ellis will be very interested in this.””
Samuel's face tightened at the name.
“Your attorney doesn't need to be involved in every family disagreement.””
“This stopped being a family disagreement when you signed a false certificate.””
He headed for the door.
Daniel didn't stop him this time.
At the threshold, Samuel turned back.
“You should think carefully about what happens when this becomes public. Your son could lose his marriage. Your granddaughter could lose her family.””
Daniel went pale.
“Don't bring my daughter into this.””
Samuel gave him a cold look.
“Then you should have thought about that before making accusations.””
He left.
Emily remained seated, her hands shaking.
“I'm sorry,” she whispered.
“I should have questioned the documents earlier.””
I studied her.
“Why are you telling us this now?””
She looked toward the door through which Samuel had disappeared.
“Because Vanessa called the office this morning. She said the transfer was complete and asked us to prepare another document.””
“What document?”” Daniel asked.
Emily reached into the envelope and removed one final page.
It was a request to sell the property.
The proposed sale price was $1.4 million.
The buyer's name was unfamiliar.
But the signature authorizing the sale was unmistakably Daniel's.
My son stared at it, shaking his head.
“I never signed this.””
Emily's voice dropped to a whisper.
“Your wife told us the buyer was ready to close tomorrow morning.””
I looked at the clock.
It was 4:17 p.m.
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If Vanessa's timeline was real, we had less than twenty-four hours to find out how far she had already gone.
And somewhere in Atlanta, someone was preparing to buy my home without my permission.
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