They never can.

“Do you remember,” she said, “that power of attorney form you signed before you left for Singapore?

The one for executing Dad’s estate?”

My heart stopped.

“You modified the second page,” I said, and the horror of it washed over me in a single cold wave, because I understood, instantly, exactly how it had been done.

“Julian’s cousin happens to be a licensed notary right here in King County,” Valerie boasted, reaching up to adjust our mother’s pearl earrings at her ears, a gesture so casually cruel it took my breath away.

“So we simply took your genuine, notarized signature page, the one from Dad’s estate paperwork, and we attached it to a document of our choosing.