Chapter 2 - THE DEED TO THE LAKE HOUSE
"What house?" Luca's voice was deathly quiet.
Isabella looked at me, her eyes wide with a horrifying realization.
"The house in Lake Forest," she whispered. "The one with the wrap-around porch and the willow tree in the front yard. Patrick told me he bought it for us. He said he was putting my name on the deed."
The blood drained from my face.
The Lake Forest house didn't belong to Patrick. It never had. It was my grandmother's house. It was the only thing my family had ever left me, the place where I had spent my childhood summers, and the place I had legally put into a trust for Sophie's future.
"That's my house," I said, my voice barely audible over the hum of the remaining wedding guests. "My grandmother left it to me. It's in a trust."
Patrick took a step toward me, his hands raised in that placating, fake-gentle way he always used when he was about to lie. "Julia, sweetheart, you're confused. We talked about this. You agreed to sell it to me so we could divide the assets fairly."
"I never agreed to sell it," I said, my heart pounding against my ribs. "Three weeks ago, you asked me to sign refinancing papers for our current home. I refused because you wouldn't let me read them."
Isabella turned to her brother. "Luca, I have the transfer documents in my bridal suite. He gave them to me this morning as a wedding gift."
Luca didn't hesitate. He gestured to one of the men in black suits standing near the doors. "Get them. Now."
The room descended into a suffocating silence.
I looked at my daughter. Sophie was clutching my hand, her small fingers pale from the pressure. She didn't understand the legal terms, but she understood the tone of her father's voice. She knew when he was cornering me.
Are we losing our house? she signed, her movements small and tight against her chest.
No, I signed back, trying to keep my hands steady. Mommy won't let him take it.
Within minutes, the bodyguard returned. He handed a thick manila folder to Luca.
Luca opened it. His dark eyes scanned the pages.
"The property has been transferred out of the trust," Luca said, his voice flat. He turned the page. "And signed over to an LLC managed by Patrick. The signature is here. Dated three weeks ago."
"I didn't sign that," I said, stepping forward. "I swear to God, I didn't sign it."
Luca turned the document around so I could see it.
There, at the bottom of the page, was my signature. It looked exactly like my handwriting. The loops, the slant, the heavy pressure on the 'J'. It was perfect.
But I hadn't signed it.
"He forged it," I whispered.
"It's notarized," Patrick countered smoothly, adjusting his white dinner jacket. "By a state-appointed official. Mr. Moretti, this woman is mentally unstable. That's why we're separated. She forgets things. She has episodes. I was trying to protect our daughter's assets before her mother drained them."
I felt a wave of dizziness. He had planned this so carefully. He hadn't just tried to replace me; he was trying to erase me completely and paint me as crazy.
Luca stared at Patrick for a long moment. Then, he looked down at the notary stamp pressed onto the bottom corner of the page.
His expression shifted. The hardened, controlled mafia boss suddenly looked deeply, genuinely dangerous.
"You say a state-appointed official notarized this?" Luca asked softly.
"Yes," Patrick said, standing taller. "A respected lawyer."
Luca flipped the folder shut. "That's interesting."
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"Why?" Patrick asked, his confidence finally faltering.
Luca looked at him with eyes like black ice. "Because the notary stamp on this forged document belongs to my Uncle Marco."
