When they left, I had a moment of clarity.
I hadn’t taken the papers he offered, but when he held them out, I used my phone—hand trembling—to snap a blurry photo of the letterhead at the top.
It was just a glance, but it was enough.
Peters Legal Services, it read, with a local address.
My first call wasn’t to a lawyer.
It was to a private investigator I’d worked with before—a guy named Mike who helped me track down obscure assets for complex estates.
“Mike,”
I said, my voice still rough,
“I have a weird one for you. A guy named Mr. Peters claiming to be a lawyer.”
I sent him the photo.
On it, he replied.
My second call was to my real lawyer, David Chen.
David was the opposite of Mr. Peters in every conceivable way.
Sharp. Precise. Zero patience for nonsense.
He was the one who guided me through the probate nightmare.
“David,”
I said,
“it’s Hannah. They’re here.”
“I assumed they would show up eventually,”
David said, voice calm.
“What’s their angle?”
I explained the visit—the fake lawyer, the fraudulent papers, the Friday deadline.
“Good,”
he said.
“You didn’t engage. You didn’t sign anything. You didn’t even touch the papers. Perfect.”
“Now we let them build their own trap.”
“You’re an appraiser, Hannah. You know the value of a solid document. And you have the most solid one of all—the deed.”
“They have a fantasy.”
“They’re coming back Friday,”
I said.
“Andrew said Saturday with movers.”
“Let them,”
David replied.
I could almost hear the thin smile in his voice.
“Let them show up. Let them bring their movers. In fact, I want you to be there. But you won’t be alone.”
“We’re not just going to stop them, Hannah. We’re going to end this for good.”
He was right.
For Complete Cooking STEPS Please Head On Over To Next Page Or Open button (>) and don’t forget to SHARE with your Facebook friends.
ADVERTISEMENT
