A Stranger Left an Envelope Beside My Bed on My Sixty-Second Birthday—Then I Found His Photograph with My Son
“I never signed this.”
She turned another page.
“There was a power of attorney submitted with it.”
“I didn’t sign that either.”
Greg’s name appeared as the person supposedly authorized to act for me.
A notarial acknowledgment sat beneath another version of my signature.
The room seemed suddenly too quiet.
“Has money been taken?” I asked.