My Son Struck Me Thirty Times at His Birthday Dinner. The Next Morning, I Sold the Mansion He Thought He Owned.

Same text, same signature page.

Except that someone lifted your signature and Raymond’s from the original, and placed a third line under them.”

“Forged.”

“Cleanly, but yes.

A professional would spot it in ten minutes.

The paper stock is wrong, the notary stamp is from a commission that expired in 2019, and the date was altered.” He took off his glasses.

“Gloria, I don’t think she was trying to fool a court.

I think she was trying to fool you, tonight, long enough to frighten you into talking.”