On Monday morning, Julian casually mentioned signing documents later that week. “Just routine planning,” he said, cutting fruit with careful precision.
I nodded and asked if I needed to dress formally, while inside I understood the advantage of being underestimated.
Melissa instructed me to act normally, gather evidence, and let him continue believing I knew nothing. So I played the role perfectly while preparing for the truth.
On Friday, I wore a cream blouse and a soft rose jacket, choosing something that reminded me of who I was before everything changed. We met in a private room at a business club in Bellevue with his associates and a notary.
He smiled warmly and said, “Let’s make this quick and simple.”
The documents were placed in front of me with tabs marking where I needed to sign. Instead of picking up the pen, I looked at him and asked, “Why is my signature already on the transfer dated last October?”
The room shifted instantly.
Before he could respond, the door opened and Melissa entered with her team. She introduced herself and placed legal documents on the table announcing an emergency filing.