PART5
Another pause.
“Thank you for telling us. Please don’t let anyone inside.”
He ended the call.
“What happened?” I asked.
Ben looked at me.
“Your parents told Mrs. Collins that Medelli and Kyle were moving into our house this weekend.”
I felt my heart sink.
“How would she know that?”
“Your mother apparently told her they had already received our permission.”
I stared at him.
Then Ben said the words that made everything suddenly feel much bigger.
“There’s something else, Odalie.”
He opened an email on his phone.
It was from our homeowners’ insurance company.
The subject line read:
REQUEST TO ADD ADDITIONAL OCCUPANTS TO PROPERTY POLICY.
I frowned.“What is that?”
Ben scrolled down.
“Who contacted them?”
Ben looked at the screen.
“The request was submitted using your mother’s name.”
I couldn’t speak.
Then I noticed another detail.
The email included a document attachment.
Ben opened it.
It was a form containing our address, the names of Medelli and Kyle, and a proposed occupancy date.
Saturday.
But that wasn’t the worst part.
At the bottom of the document was a signature.
A signature that looked remarkably similar to mine.
“No.”
He enlarged the document.
And then we both noticed something that made the blood drain from our faces.
The form wasn’t simply requesting permission to add occupants.
It contained a statement claiming that we had agreed to let Medelli and Kyle live in the house indefinitely.
And beneath that statement was a handwritten note:
The homeowners are currently unavailable, but their family has full authorization to complete the arrangements.
I stared at those words.
My mother hadn’t simply misunderstood our intentions.
Someone had apparently been trying to make arrangements in our names.
And suddenly, I understood why she’d been asking the hospital about Eleanor’s discharge.
She wasn’t just planning where my sister would live.
She was acting as though she had the authority to make decisions for my entire family.
Ben took my hand.
“Tomorrow, we’re going home. But before we do, I think we need to find out exactly what your parents have been arranging.”
I nodded.
Then my phone rang.
It was Medelli.
I answered.
Her voice sounded unusually cheerful.
“Odalie! Great news. Mom says everything is finally settled.”
I looked at Ben.
“What do you mean?”
She laughed.
“Well, Kyle and I are coming over Saturday morning. Mom said you’ve finally agreed to let us stay.”
I closed my eyes.
Then I asked one question.
“Medelli, who told you that I agreed?”
Her answer changed everything.
“Mom showed us the document with your signature.”
I felt the room go silent.
Because I had never signed that document.
And now my sister was telling me that my mother had shown her proof that I supposedly had.
For several seconds, I couldn’t speak.
My sister was still talking.
“Hello? Odalie? Are you there?”
I looked at Ben.
He had stopped packing. His eyes were fixed on me.
Finally, I managed to answer.
“Medelli, listen carefully. I never signed anything allowing you and Kyle to move into my house.”
She sighed.
“Why are you doing this again?”
“I’m not doing anything. I’m telling you the truth.”
“Because I want to see the signature.”
Medelli sounded irritated.
“Fine. I’ll send it.”
A few seconds later, a photograph arrived.
I opened it.
My name was printed beneath a handwritten signature.
It looked convincing at first glance.
The shape of the letters was similar to mine. Even the little curve at the end of my surname looked familiar.
But I noticed something immediately.
The signature was missing a small detail I had always included when signing official documents.
I looked at Ben.
“This isn’t mine.”
He examined the photograph.
“You’re right.”
I zoomed in.
The handwriting looked like someone had copied my signature from an old document.
Then another message arrived from Medelli.
Mom said you signed it before going into labor.
I stared at the screen.
Before going into labor?
I remembered the days before Eleanor’s birth.
I had been working from home, preparing for maternity leave, and organizing our finances.
My parents had visited twice.
During one visit, Mom had asked me to print some documents for her because her printer wasn’t working.
I’d left the papers on the dining table while preparing lunch.
At the time, I hadn’t thought anything of it.
Now I wondered what else she might have done while she was in my house.
I immediately called her.
She answered after three rings.
“Hello, sweetheart.”
“Mom, I saw the document.”
There was silence.
“What document?”
“The one with my signature.”
“Oh, that. Good. So you’ve finally seen it.”
“Mom, I didn’t sign that.”
Her voice changed.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m serious.”
“You must have forgotten.”
“I haven’t forgotten signing something I never signed.”
She sighed.
“Odalie, you’re exhausted. You’ve just had a baby. You’re emotional. Let’s discuss this when you’re feeling better.”
I felt anger rising inside me.
“Stop using my recovery as an excuse to dismiss me.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me. I never gave you permission to move Medelli into our home, and I never signed that document.”
She lowered her voice.
“Your sister needs somewhere to live.”
“Then help her find somewhere.”
“We’ve already made arrangements!”
“That’s not my responsibility.”
Mom suddenly snapped.
“You have no idea what we’ve sacrificed for this family!”
I almost laughed.
“Then why are you sacrificing my home instead?”
She hung up.
I stared at the phone.
Ben wrapped his arm around me.
“We’re not letting this go.”
And for the first time, I agreed without hesitation.
The following morning, we were discharged.
Ben carried Eleanor’s car seat while Denise helped me gather the last of my belongings.
Before leaving, Denise approached me.
“I want you to know that we documented everything you told us about your daughter’s discharge arrangements.”
I thanked her.
She smiled at Eleanor.
“Take good care of your little girl.”
I promised I would.
As we walked toward the hospital exit, I felt something I hadn’t felt in days.
Relief.
We were finally going home.
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