“Mara.”
“No.”
Dad dropped the paper onto the table.
“We’ll challenge this.”
“You should talk to your attorney.”
Tessa stepped forward.
“If this is about money, just tell us what you want.”
I looked at her.
“The trust restored.”
Dad stopped moving.
Mom answered too quickly.
“That matter was settled.”
“No. A document with a signature I didn’t write is not a settlement.”
“You signed it.”
“I didn’t.”
“We had witnesses.”
I looked at Tessa.
Her face changed.
“You witnessed it, didn’t you?”
“I witnessed paperwork.”
“Did you see me sign it?”
She looked toward Mom.
Dad cut in.
“This is pointless.”
“No. It’s documented.”
I carried Ivy back to her bassinet and opened the white folder.
I laid the handwriting reports, trust records, and transaction summary on the table.
Mom flipped through the first report.
“Experts say whatever they’re paid to say.”
“Then maybe you’ll prefer audio.”
Her eyes lifted.
I opened my phone.
The old customer-service recording began with static.
Then my mother’s voice filled the room.
The representative asked for my birth date.
Mom gave it.
The representative requested additional identifying information.
Mom provided that too.
Then came the final question.
“Ma’am, can you confirm your relationship to the account holder?”
There was a pause on the recording.
Mom answered.
“I’m Mara Ellison.”
The recording stopped.
Tessa whispered something under her breath.
Dad stared at Mom.
Mom stared at my phone.
Finally I said, “You opened the account.”
She swallowed.