But arrogance and fraud were not the same thing.
Greg had crossed that line.
I picked up my phone.
His eyes widened.
“Who are you calling?”
“My lawyer.”
His voice dropped.
“Mom.”
That one word nearly broke me.
For a second, he sounded like the eight-year-old boy I remembered.
But the man standing in front of me was thirty-seven.
And he had forged my signature.
I made the call.
By noon, my lawyer, Margaret Wells, was sitting inside my office.
Greg paced back and forth.
Sarah sat away from him, silently crying.
Margaret studied Daniel’s documents.
“The transfers can be documented,” she said. “The forged credit agreement is serious. The house documents are even more serious.”
Greg stopped pacing.
“I never completed the house loan.”
Margaret looked over her glasses.
“That doesn’t make the forged documents disappear.”
He turned toward me.
“Mom, I can fix this.”
“How?”
“I’ll repay it.”
