That was all the proof I needed.
Chloe hadn’t just been daydreaming about taking my home eventually.
She had already actively begun separating my life into items she intended to keep and items she intended to liquidate.
“Hand me that folder,” she demanded.
“Absolutely not.”
“You don’t even understand what you’re looking at.”
“I understand perfectly well why my family heirlooms are sitting in the back of your car.”
“You cannot possibly live in this big house by yourself forever.”
“That is a decision that belongs entirely to me.”
She took a menacing step closer.
“You were eavesdropping on a private phone call.”
“No,” I replied. “I was simply walking through my own hallway.”
For the very first time, a flash of genuine fear crossed Chloe’s face.
Not remorse.
Fear.
Mitchell pulled into the driveway about forty minutes later.
He slammed his truck door, looking highly agitated.
“Mom, what on earth is going on here?”
“Your wife was making preparations to steal my house.”
His face hardened.
“That’s completely impossible.”
I shoved the manila folder into his chest.
He flipped through the documents in dead silence.
Then he landed on a printed email thread and froze.
“Read it out loud. What does it say?” I asked.
His voice wavered.
“Once the deed clears the county, we need to move fast. Eleanor should be settled at Oakmont before the first buyers start touring the property.”
He flipped to the next page.
“This one is a note to remove the antique silver before the staging company arrives.”
I just stared pointedly at Chloe’s open car door.
Mitchell kept flipping until he uncovered the legal affidavit bearing his own messy signature.
All the blood drained from his face.
“Is that your handwriting, Mitchell?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“Did you bother reading it before you signed your name?”
He stared at the pavement.
“No.”
“What did Chloe tell you you were signing?”
“She said it was just standard authorization forms so she could help deal with your Medicare and insurance claims.”
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