Chapter 3 - THE FORGERY TRAP"This is a mistake!" Vivian screamed, her voice pitching up into a hysterical shriek as two federal agents stepped forward, their hands resting firmly on their tactical cuffs. "Look at my husband! Tell them, Richard! Tell these men my husband gave me power of attorney!"
She grabbed my father’s arm, shaking him violently.
My father—Richard Mercer—looked like a ghost. He stared at his wife, then at the federal badge, and finally at me. The crushing weight of what he had allowed Vivian to do over the past decade finally crushed whatever spine he had left.
"I... I never signed the final guardianship papers," my father whispered, his voice trembling so hard the words barely carried. "Vivian... Vivian forged my signature on the court filings."
Vivian’s jaw dropped. She slapped my father across the face with a loud, ringing crack. "You spineless coward!"
Director Vance didn't flinch. He snapped the cold steel handcuffs around Vivian’s wrists. The diamonds on her fingers clicked against the metal—a jarring, cheap sound in the solemn silence of the church.
"Forgery of court documents adds another five years to the federal indictment, Mrs. Mercer," Vance stated smoothly, turning her around to face the exit.
As they dragged her down the aisle, Vivian twisted her neck back, her eyes locked on me with pure, venomous hatred.
"You'll pay for this, Claire!" she shrieked, kicking her high heels against the pews. "You're nothing without our money! You hear me? NOTHING!"
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The heavy oak doors of the chapel swung open, swallowing her angry screams into the gray afternoon rain.
Silence descended upon the chapel once more. Only the scattered white pearls remained on the floor, gleaming under the candlelight like tiny drops of frozen moonlight.
