Chapter 2 - You Were Supposed to Be at Work
Suzanne realized what she had said.
Too late.
Officer Morales turned toward her.
“What did you mean by that?”
“Nothing.”
“You just said Mrs. Cole was supposed to be at work.”
“She normally works.”
“Why does that matter to a deed filed this morning?”
Suzanne folded her arms.
“It does not.”
Derek shouted from across the kitchen:
“Stop talking.”
That was the second useful sentence he gave police.
Suzanne looked at him.
Then stopped talking.
Nathan Brooks photographed every document before the officers bagged them temporarily for the investigation.
The first was a loan application.
Requested amount:
Six hundred twenty thousand dollars.
Collateral:
My apartment.
Borrower:
Silver Birch Residential Trust.
Guarantor:
Claire Cole.
The second document authorized loan proceeds to be transferred to Cole Brighton Ventures.
I knew that company.
Derek created it two years earlier.
He described it as a property investment firm.
It owned nothing I knew of.
“Why would my apartment secure Derek’s company?”
Nathan did not speculate.
“We need the complete title package.”
The officers separated us.
Derek said the documents were drafts.
Suzanne said she did not know what was inside her handbag.
That was difficult to believe because her name appeared on two pages.
She was listed as:
Administrative trustee, Silver Birch Residential Trust.
I read the words again.
“You are the trustee?”
Suzanne stared at the wall.
Her attorney would later advise her not to answer.
At that moment she snapped:
“It was temporary.”
“What was temporary?”
“Nothing.”
Derek shouted again.
“Suzanne.”
The police report gave me immediate evidence of violence.
The property papers created a different problem.
Financial abuse.
Possible identity fraud.
Potential forged documents.
Different systems would handle them.
I needed to stop thinking of the entire thing as one dramatic crime with one immediate ending.
The first priority was safety.
That night, I stayed with Maya.
My attorney, Leah Rosen, filed for an emergency protective order the following morning.
Derek could not enter the apartment while the order was reviewed.
Suzanne was separately prohibited from contacting me after the coffee incident.
The apartment building disabled both of their access credentials.
Derek called that theft.
Leah corrected him.
“It is temporary access control while a domestic violence order is pending.”
Words mattered.
I had spent years letting Derek rename things.
Boundary became selfishness.
Debt became family help.
My property became our property.
Violence became what you made me do.
That ended now.
Nathan sent the complete title alert.
Three months earlier, after unexplained mail arrived from a mortgage broker, Leah helped me place the apartment into the Morgan Residence Trust.
I remained sole trustee and beneficiary.
The transfer was not designed to hide property from Derek.
The apartment was already my premarital property.
The trust created another verification layer and simplified estate planning.
More importantly, Fairmont Title Risk placed an alert on the parcel.
Any new deed, mortgage, lien, or transfer triggered direct verification.
That alert saved me.
At 10:12 a.m. on the morning of the coffee attack, someone electronically submitted the forged deed.
At 10:17, county intake flagged inconsistent ownership capacity.
At 10:21, Fairmont called my phone.
I was in the ambulance.
The call went unanswered.
At 10:28, Nathan sent an email.
I did not see it.
At 11:03, a second filing appeared.
Mortgage authorization.
Again bearing my signature.
Also rejected pending title clarification.
Who submitted them?
A document courier called Harbor Legal Processing.
Client:
Cole Brighton Ventures.
Contact person:
Derek Cole.
That moved Derek directly into the paper trail.
He still claimed he believed I had approved everything.
Approved when?
He said three nights earlier.
We had eaten dinner together.
Watched television.
Nothing about a six hundred twenty thousand dollar loan.
His lawyer later produced an email.
From:
Claire Cole.
To:
Derek Cole.
Subject:
Silver Birch.
Proceed with what we discussed. I am tired of fighting about this. Suzanne can handle paperwork.
My email address.
My signature block.
I had never sent it.
Leah asked whether my account had been compromised.
My password had not changed.
Login history showed access at 2:14 a.m. three nights earlier.
Device:
Home iPad.
Location:
My apartment.
Derek knew the passcode.
So did I.
Suzanne had used the tablet during visits.
There was no sophisticated cyberattack.
Only access inside a home.
That distinction made it more frightening.
My marriage had made the fraud easier.
Nathan found another defect in the deed.
Silver Birch Residential Trust had been created only twelve days earlier.
Settlor:
Claire Cole.
Not me.
Trustee:
Suzanne Cole.
Beneficiary:
Cole Brighton Ventures.
Meaning whoever created the trust claimed I voluntarily placed my apartment into an entity controlled by Suzanne for the benefit of Derek’s company.
Leah looked at me.
“Did you ever sign a trust document?”
“No.”
“Any family estate documents recently?”
My stomach tightened.
Six weeks earlier, Derek brought me a stack of insurance renewals.
He said our umbrella policy required updated signatures because my apartment remained separate property.
I signed four pages.
I read them.
At least I thought I did.
Could one have been substituted?
We requested copies from the insurance broker.
All four legitimate.
No Silver Birch.
Good.
Then why did the trust contain a notarized signature that looked almost perfect?
Remote notarization records answered.
The trust had been executed by video.
A woman appeared on screen.
Dark hair.
Pale robe.
Holding my driver’s license.
The image quality was poor.
But it looked like me.
Leah paused the frame.
I stared.
The woman’s face was partly hidden by oversized glasses.
Her voice said:
“Yes, I am Claire Cole.”
The notary asked her to remove the glasses.
The connection froze.
Then returned.
The notary accepted the explanation that Claire had light sensitivity after a migraine.
The video continued.
The woman signed.
Not my handwriting.
But close.
The woman was not me.
Nathan enlarged her left hand.
A distinctive crescent tattoo sat near the thumb.
I knew it.
May you like
Suzanne.
Continue to the next part: Suzanne appears to have impersonated Claire during a remote notarization used to create the trust meant to receive Claire’s apartment.
