“Sir,” Mr. Harris cut in politely, “any correction made without the trustee’s authorization is null and void. Furthermore, our records show you used an out-of-state service with a notary seal that is not licensed in Oregon. These factors are sufficient to trigger a criminal investigation.”
I finally met my sister’s gaze, my voice low and steady. “Family doesn’t bring forged documents to throw me out of the house my grandparents trusted me to protect.”
Mr. Harris handed my father a formal warning. “If you return with any further intent to take possession, we will contact the district attorney’s office.”
They stared at me, searching for a sign of weakness. Finding none, my father spun on his heel. “Let’s go.”
Ashley shot me a venomous glare. “You’ll regret this.”
I answered with the faintest of smiles. As the truck rumbled away, I knew I had won the first battle, but the war was far from over.
The next attack came in the form of a formal demand letter from my mother’s attorney, accusing me of violating my “moral and emotional obligations.” They demanded $150,000 for emotional distress and joint ownership of the house. I took it straight to Sonia Patel, a brilliant trust attorney.