snapped.
“No,” I said.
“It doesn’t.”
For a second, relief flickered across his face.
Then I continued.
“But the bank’s second file might.”
He stared at me.
My phone vibrated.
Rebecca Sloan had sent a message.
The lender’s counsel had agreed to preserve all original loan documentation and electronic submission records while the signature issue was reviewed.
That mattered because a scanned authorization supposedly bearing Dad’s signature had been submitted electronically.
And according to the lender, the submission had not come from Dad’s email address.
Baylor’s face changed when I said that.
Dad noticed.
“What signature?”
There was no easy way around it anymore.
I told him.
The loan file contained written authorization with his name on it.
Dad grabbed the back of a chair.
“I never signed any authorization.”
Baylor spoke too quickly.
“You sign papers all the time.”
“Not that.”
“You don’t remember half the things you sign.”
Dad stepped toward him.
“Did you sign my name?”
Mom whispered, “Oh my God.”
Baylor’s expression hardened.
“I kept the business alive.”
It was not a confession.
But it was not a denial either.
Veda stood up.
“Baylor, answer him.”
He pointed at me.
“This is what she wanted.
Look at her.
She comes home with lawyers and paperwork because she can’t stand that I’m the one Dad trusted.”
I almost felt sorry for him.
Even then, he believed this was about sibling rivalry.
“I didn’t make you borrow the money,” I said.
“I didn’t create BLM Property Holdings.
I didn’t buy the lake house.
And I didn’t submit Dad’s signature to a bank.”
Callum quietly said, “Those are pretty specific accusations.”
Baylor snapped, “Stay out of this.”
Callum raised both hands and stepped back.
Dad looked at me.
“What happens now?”
It was the first time in my life he had asked that question as though my answer might matter.
I told him Rebecca would meet us at nine the next morning.
I told him not to destroy, alter, or remove any business records.
Then I looked directly at Baylor.
“And neither should anyone else.”
He laughed bitterly.
“You think I’m scared of some lawyer?”
He was.
I could see it.
At 11:42 that night, my phone rang.
It was Mom.
“Baylor is at the store.”
I sat up in bed.
“How do you know?”
“Your father drove past.
Baylor’s truck is there.”
I called Rebecca immediately.
She instructed Dad not to confront him and advised him to document what he observed.
Because Dad was still authorized to access the business premises, he and Mom drove to the parking lot but stayed outside.
Baylor left twenty minutes later carrying two banker boxes.
Dad photographed him from inside the car.
The next morning, Rebecca moved quickly.
We met at her office with Dad and Mom.
Baylor refused to attend.
Rebecca explained that the lender was conducting an internal review of the authorization documents.
She also recommended that Dad immediately revoke Baylor’s authority to act on behalf of the business until the matter was resolved.
Dad resisted.
Even after everything.
“He’s my son.”
Rebecca folded her hands.
“That is exactly why this is difficult.
But being your son does not give him unlimited authority over trust property or permission to sign your name.”
Dad looked at me.
I said nothing.
I
