She answered immediately.
“What happened?”
“He used the property as collateral for a line of credit.”
Silence.
“What?”
“I didn’t sign anything.”
“Oh my God.”
“He forged my signature.”
Sabrina whispered something I couldn’t hear.
Then:
“Harbor Ridge isn’t buying a house.”
I opened my eyes.
“What?”
“I checked something last night.”
“What?”
“The address listed in my investment documents.”
“Yes?”
“It belongs to a commercial parcel outside Bluffton.”
I waited.
“There was supposed to be a redevelopment.”
“What kind?”
“Small luxury retail. Restaurants. Offices.”
“That sounds like something Julian would invest in.”
“That’s what I thought.”
“But?”
“But the parcel was sold last month.”
My chest tightened.
“To Harbor Ridge?”
“No.”
“To who?”
“A company from Atlanta.”
I gripped the phone.
“So what exactly did Sabrina invest in?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
I almost corrected her.
She had said Sabrina instead of I.
Then I realized she was shaking.
“You thought you were investing in the acquisition.”
“Yes.”
“And the property is owned by someone else?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe Harbor Ridge had a partnership.”
“Maybe.”
She didn’t sound convinced.
“Julian sent me quarterly projections.”
“He sends me financial spreadsheets for our household that look legitimate too.”
Silence.
Then Sabrina said, “I know someone who can check corporate registrations.”
“Who?”
“My cousin works in compliance for a regional bank.”
“Don’t ask her to do anything improper.”
“I won’t.”
She exhaled.
“I just want to know if this company is real.”
I looked toward the bedroom door.
“So do I.”
Nolan called at eight.
By nine-thirty, I was sitting inside the office of Rebecca Hale.
She was in her forties, calm, direct, and completely unimpressed by Julian.
I liked her immediately.
Nolan joined by video.
Rebecca listened while I explained everything.
She rarely interrupted.
When I finished, she asked one question.
“Do you feel safe returning to the house?”
“Yes.”
“Physically?”
“Yes.”
“Financially?”
I hesitated.
“No.”
She nodded.
“Then we treat that as urgent.”
For the next hour, she asked for documents.
Bank records.
Property information.
The fake decree.
Messages from Sabrina.
Anything involving Harbor Ridge.
When she read the supposed divorce decree, her expression barely changed.
But she circled three things.
“This case number belongs to something.”
I looked at her.
“How can you tell?”
“The format is correct.”
Nolan leaned toward his screen.
“Can you check?”
“I already am.”
She typed.
Then stopped.
Her eyes narrowed.
“What?”
Rebecca turned the monitor.
The case number existed.
It did not belong to a divorce.
It belonged to a civil matter involving my late grandmother’s estate.
I stared.
“That’s how he got the number.”
Nolan swore quietly.
Rebecca nodded.
“He used a real case number associated with your name.”
My stomach tightened.
“So if Sabrina searched it?”
“She might see your name connected to a Georgia court record and assume the rest matched.”
Julian hadn’t created a careless lie.
He had constructed one designed to survive basic checking.
Rebecca leaned back.
“That matters.”
“Why?”
“Because it suggests planning.”
I looked down at my hands.
There was my ring.
Still there.
I slid it off.
I didn’t make a speech.
I simply placed it in my purse.
Rebecca pretended not to notice.
By lunchtime, she had contacted someone who specialized in property fraud issues.
I authorized them to check the Richmond property.
At two-fifteen, we received the first confirmation.
A line of credit had been opened.
The amount available was two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.
One hundred and eighty thousand had already been drawn.
I stared at the number.
“One hundred and eighty?”
Rebecca nodded.
“I thought he said sixty.”
“He may have meant sixty from joint savings.”
I felt sick.
“Where did the rest go?”
“We need records.”
The documents contained my signature.
A copy of my driver’s license.
And an email authorization from an account that looked like mine.
Not my real email.
A nearly identical address.
My name with one extra initial.
I stared at it.
“He created an email account pretending to be me.”
Rebecca nodded.
“It appears so.”
I laughed.
The sound surprised everyone.
Not because anything was funny.
Because the lie had grown so large it almost became impossible to process.
Julian had not simply cheated.
He had built a second Camille.
One who lived in Richmond.
One who agreed to a divorce.
One who released property rights.
One who approved financial documents.
