Three Suitcases Left in the Rain and Nineteen Million Dollars in Cancun
Sable’s hand shot out and gripped Nathan’s forearm, her fingers digging into his sleeve. “There is no nineteen million. The company accounts were empty. The lawyer is lying to protect her.”
“Quiet in my court,” Judge Miller said, her voice dropping an octave as she turned a page in the sealed file we had sent her.
She picked up a black pen and circled three lines on the document before her.
“Mrs. Sable Reed,” the judge said, looking over her glasses. “I have the certified loan application from the First National Bank of River Oaks dated September twelfth.”
Sable did not move, her hand still gripping Nathan’s sleeve.
“The application lists the primary residence as collateral for a three hundred and fifty thousand dollar home equity line of credit,” Judge Miller said. “The signature of Nathan Reed appears on page four.”
Nathan pulled his arm away from Sable’s grip, his face pale under the fluorescent lights. “I never signed a loan.”
“The forensic handwriting report enclosed in this file suggests otherwise, Mr. Reed,” the judge said. “Specifically, it suggests the signature was executed by your wife.”
