Chapter 1 - The Folder Mason Tried to Hide
The police officer opened the folder Mason had tried to carry out through my side gate.
I was standing beside the patrol car with Frederick asleep against my chest when I saw the first page.
It was the original deed to my house.
My name was printed clearly across the top.
Connor James Bradley.
I looked at my mother.
Teresa had finally stopped screaming.
For the first time since I had entered the backyard, she looked afraid.
“Why did Mason have this?”
I asked.
My mother immediately looked away.
Mason answered before she could.
“Aunt Teresa told me to put it somewhere safe.”
One of the officers turned toward him.
“Safe from whom?”
Mason swallowed.
“Connor.”
That single word changed everything.
Amy stood beside me wrapped in the light jacket I kept in the car.
She looked pale and exhausted.
Her hands were still red from washing dishes for hours.
Frederick was burning with fever, so an ambulance was already on the way.
I should have been thinking only about my son.
Instead, I kept staring at that folder.
The officer flipped through several more pages.
There were photocopies of my driver’s license.
Copies of my mortgage statements.
My property tax records.
Bank statements.
Even an old document with my signature carefully traced several times in black ink.
My stomach tightened.
“Where did you get those?”
I asked my mother.
Teresa finally found her voice.
“You gave me access to your paperwork.”
“No.”
I said.
“I gave you a spare key because you said you were helping Amy with the baby.”
Aunt Betsy stepped closer.
“This is becoming ridiculous.”
The officer raised one hand.
“Ma’am, stay where you are.”
Betsy’s face hardened.
“You people are treating Teresa like some criminal because her son is suddenly controlled by his wife.”
Amy flinched.
I stepped between them.
“Don’t speak to my wife.”
Betsy laughed.
“There.”
She said.
“That attitude right there.”
My mother had been saying the same thing for months.
That Amy had changed me.
That Amy was isolating me.
That Amy wanted my money.
But now I was beginning to understand why.
They needed Amy to be the villain.
Because if I trusted my wife, I might eventually notice what my own family was doing.
The ambulance arrived.
A paramedic checked Frederick.
His temperature was 103.1.
Amy started crying quietly when she heard the number.
The paramedic told us they wanted him evaluated immediately.
I climbed into the ambulance with my wife and son.
Before the doors closed, the officer approached me with the folder.
“We’re taking this as evidence.”
He said.
“Mr. Bradley, there’s something else you should know.”
I looked at him.
He pointed toward one photocopied page.
At the bottom was a notarized signature.
My signature.
Except I had never signed it.
May you like
The document transferred partial ownership of my Nashville property to Teresa Bradley.
And according to the date printed beside my forged name, my mother had supposedly become co-owner of my house eleven days earlier.
