Luis looked down at his polished shoes.
“Your sister was with her, sir.”
“They had a notary public with them, a woman named Mrs. Gable.”
“I recognized her from the local registry office down the street.”
“They signed the papers right there on the hood of your mother’s sedan.”

I took the cold plastic drive from his hand.
“You have been incredibly helpful, Luis.”
“Just doing my job, Mr. Collins,” he said.
“I don’t like seeing good people taken advantage of.”
He gave a small nod and walked back toward the elevator.

I went back to my desk and plugged the drive into my laptop.
The video files loaded quickly.
I clicked the file marked with Tuesday’s timestamp.
The screen showed my mother, Linda, leaning against her gold sedan in the parking garage.
Hannah stood next to her, clutching a thick stack of blue-bound documents.

A third woman, wearing a bright yellow blazer, stamped the papers.
My mother smiled and handed the woman an envelope.
It was a cash payment, clear as day under the fluorescent garage lights.
They had forged my signature on a petition for temporary adult guardianship.
They were trying to declare me legally incompetent to manage my own estate.