My Husband Sold My Two Million Dollar Land For Five Dollars To His Girlfriend
“You are sure about this, Katie?” I asked.
“He has a tremor in his thumb when he writes fast,” she said. “There is a tiny skip in the middle of the letter B.”
She pointed to the capital B in Brennan, where a small gap in the ink showed the hesitation of a hand trying too hard to be steady.
“I remember him sitting at his desk during the derby party,” Katie said. “He had a stack of blank paper, and he kept scribbling things and throwing them in the fire.”
“I thought he was just calculating the betting pool,” I said.
“He was practicing,” she said.
The kitchen was silent except for the hum of the refrigerator.
The realization that my husband had spent years studying my handwriting to take my father’s land sat like cold iron in my chest.
“We have to go to the living room,” I said, standing up. “Elena is bringing the mail.”
We walked into the living room just as the headlights of Elena’s truck swept across the front window.
She came through the back door carrying a white cardboard overnight envelope from the forensic accountants.
