I felt the blood drain from my face. “How is that even possible? My physical signature and a notary are required for the deed.”

“She forged it,” Mara said grimly, adjusting her glasses. “Brilliantly. They knew they couldn’t touch the twenty-million-dollar trust yet — it’s legally insulated until the final probate review next week.

So they decided to saddle you with catastrophic debt before the divorce even started. When the trust clears, creditors would seize your assets to pay off the fraudulent loans.

They planned to drain you dry, leave you bankrupt, and let you face federal fraud charges for defaulting on a military-subsidized loan.”

I looked down at Evelyn — my beautiful, innocent daughter. Grant hadn’t just abandoned us. He and his mother had plotted, step by step, to ruin our lives.

“Can we stop the transfer?” I asked, my voice going calm. The soldier in me was taking over, locking away the pain to focus on the mission.