He had offered to help because, according to Paige, mortgage brokers often took advantage of emotional buyers.
He said he could organize her finances, improve her application, and introduce her to private lenders.
He had called it an act of love.
Now the money was scheduled to move into a company she had never heard of.
Paige opened her banking app.
Her fingers shook badly enough that she mistyped the password twice.
Karen moved beside her.
“Call the number on the back of the card,” she said.
“Not any number from an email or message.”
While Paige called, Graham grabbed his coat from the hallway hook.
A black folder slipped from beneath it and struck the floor.
Pages scattered across the hardwood.
Mom bent to help, then froze.
“Paige,” she said.
My sister picked up the top document.
It was an authorization directing her bank to release funds to Prescott Strategic Holdings.
Her name appeared beneath a signature line.
She studied it for several seconds.
“That isn’t my handwriting.”
Graham moved toward her.
“It’s an electronic reproduction.”
“Of what?”
“A signature you provided on the mortgage paperwork.”
“You copied my signature?”
“That’s not what I said.”
I picked up another page.
It was labeled as an investor suitability questionnaire.
Several boxes had been checked indicating that Paige possessed extensive experience with private placements, could tolerate a total loss, and had a net worth far beyond anything she had ever claimed.
“Did you complete this?” I asked her.
She read the page.
“I’ve never seen it.”
Graham reached for the document.
I stepped back.
“Give me my property.”
“It has Paige’s name and signature on it,” I said.
“She can hold it while she speaks to the bank.”
He looked at Evan.
“You seem like a reasonable person.
Tell your brother he is creating legal exposure for himself.”
Evan had been silent most of the evening.
He set down his coffee cup and looked directly at Graham.
“I think you should stop talking until the police arrive.”
Graham’s head turned sharply.
“The police?”
Dad held up his phone.
“Your mother called them from the kitchen.”
Graham looked toward Mom.
She stood near the counter with her arms folded.
“You came into my house,” she said, “insulted my son, and tried to take my daughter’s savings.
You’re done explaining things to us.”
For several seconds, Graham said nothing.
Then he changed tactics.
His shoulders dropped.
His voice softened.
“Paige, look at me.
