Rebecca Shaw didn't waste time.
By noon, she had contacted the relevant property-records office, requested certified copies of the disputed filings, and begun preparing formal notices challenging the transfer.
She also advised Naomi to notify the appropriate authorities about the suspected misuse of her signature.
"We cannot assume who created the document," Rebecca explained. "But we can establish whether you signed it and whether the filing meets the legal requirements."
Naomi sat across from her, hands clenched beneath the table.
"How long will that take?"
"Potentially weeks or months, depending on the records and whether anyone contests the claim."
Naomi wanted an answer that afternoon.
She wanted someone to tell her that the document was fake, that Brandon would be exposed, and that her family would never have to worry again.
Instead, she received the truth.
The truth required evidence.
It required patience.
And it required her to resist the temptation to destroy Brandon publicly before the investigation could establish exactly what had happened.
Rebecca asked Naomi to describe every document Brandon had asked her to sign.
Naomi remembered a folder at his apartment, another in his car, and several electronic forms he had sent her through email.
"He said his accountant needed my information because we were planning to get married," she explained. "He told me it was easier to organize everything before the wedding."
"Did you ever give him your Social Security number?"
"Yes. He said the bank needed it for a joint savings account."
"Did you open that account?"
Naomi shook her head.
"He said the application was delayed."
Rebecca made a note.
"Change your banking passwords. Contact your financial institutions. Request your credit reports, and place appropriate fraud alerts or security freezes if advised. Also, make a list of every document you remember signing."
Naomi felt sick.
She had believed she was building a life with Brandon.
Instead, she might have handed him the tools to damage her financial future.
That afternoon, Claire accompanied Naomi to the wedding venue.
The staff were sympathetic, but the event coordinator explained that Brandon's family had already collected some of their belongings. The bridal suite had been cleaned, and the folder Naomi remembered was nowhere to be found.
However, one of the security supervisors agreed to preserve any available footage relevant to the confrontation, subject to the venue's procedures and applicable privacy requirements.
Naomi gave a formal account of Waylon's shove and Brandon's conduct.
She did not ask the staff to edit anything or publish the footage online.
She simply wanted an accurate record of what had happened.
As they left, Naomi noticed Brianna's black SUV parked across the street.
Brianna stood beside it, talking on her phone.
When she saw Naomi, she ended the call.
"Well," Brianna said, walking toward them, "look who's finally ready to talk."
Claire immediately moved between them.
"We have nothing to discuss with you."
Brianna laughed.
"You're the cousin, aren't you? The one who crawled out of nowhere to stir up trouble."
Naomi's hands began trembling, but she kept her voice steady.
"Did you forge my signature?"
Brianna's smile faltered.
Then she recovered.
"That's a serious accusation."
"Then answer the question."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Your company filed a document claiming I waived my family's property rights. I never signed it."
Brianna leaned closer.
"Maybe you signed more than you remember."
Claire raised her phone, making it clear she was documenting the encounter.
Brianna noticed.
"Put that away."
"No," Claire replied.
For a moment, Brianna's face hardened.
Then she smiled again.
"You're making a mistake, Naomi. Brandon was willing to give you a beautiful life. You could have had everything."
"What did you want?"
"Security. Success. A future."
"You already have a salon."
"A salon doesn't make you powerful."
The admission slipped out before Brianna could stop herself.
Naomi stared at her.
Brianna's eyes narrowed.
"Enjoy your little investigation. It won't change anything."
She turned toward her SUV.
Then she paused.
"Oh, and Naomi? You should ask your cousin what her mother did after Evelyn disappeared."
Claire's face went pale.
Brianna drove away.
Naomi turned to Claire.
"What was she talking about?"
Claire looked toward the road.
"I don't know."
But her voice lacked conviction.
"Claire."
"My mother kept some things from me, too."
"What things?"
Claire closed her eyes.
"After Evelyn left, she received money from someone in California. Regular payments for several years. She never explained where the money came from."
Naomi stared at her.
"Do you think it was connected to Parker House?"
"I think we need to find out."
That evening, Rebecca called with an update.
The corporate filing contained a reference to a trust established decades earlier. The trust appeared to have been created to protect Parker House and preserve the interests of Miriam, Evelyn, and their descendants.
The original trust instrument had not yet been located.
But the surviving records suggested that no individual beneficiary could unilaterally surrender the family's rights without following specific procedures.
"If the trust is valid and the transfer was unauthorized, the document Brianna filed may not accomplish what she claims," Rebecca explained. "However, we need the original instrument and complete title history before drawing conclusions."
Naomi felt the first real flicker of hope.
Then Rebecca added a warning.
"Brandon's company has substantial debts. If it is trying to secure financing against disputed property, it may be under pressure to complete the transaction quickly."
"How quickly?"
"The records suggest there may be a meeting with potential investors within forty-eight hours."
Naomi glanced at the photograph of Parker House.
Two days.
That was all the time she might have before Brandon and Brianna attempted to move forward.
She called Daniel, who agreed to coordinate with Rebecca and help preserve relevant business records.
Then Naomi did something she had never imagined doing.
She contacted Brandon's father.
Not to beg for an explanation.
Not to ask for an apology.
She wanted to know whether he had seen the documents connected to Parker House.
His answer was immediate.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Your son witnessed a document bearing my signature."
"Naomi, you need to stop this nonsense."
"Did you know he was using my name in a business transaction?"
He fell silent.
Then he said, "You have no idea what you're getting yourself into."
The call ended.
Naomi stood motionless.
It wasn't a denial.
It was a warning.
Later that night, a thick envelope appeared beneath her apartment door.
Inside was a photocopy of an old legal document and a handwritten note.
Your grandmother did not leave Parker House to the people you think she did.
At the bottom of the page was a name Naomi recognized from the old photograph.
Thomas Bell.
And beside his signature was another name.
A name that made Miriam collapse into a chair when Naomi showed it to her.
Because the person who had supposedly witnessed Evelyn's transfer thirty years earlier was not Thomas Bell.
It was Miriam Parker herself.
