This wasn’t emotional anymore.
It was a problem.
Problems could be documented.
I traced the destination accounts until one connected to Evelyn.
I checked twice.
Same routing number.
Same bank.
Same name.
“Of course,” I whispered. “Of course, it was her.”
Then I checked login records.
Every login leaves a footprint.
There were account accesses from my home while I was halfway around the world.
Same device signature.
Same location.
No attempt to hide it.
They had simply assumed I would never check.
Then I found a document uploaded three months earlier.
Power of attorney.
My name at the top.
Evelyn listed as authorized agent.
My signature at the bottom.
Except it wasn’t mine.
It resembled mine enough to fool someone unfamiliar with it, but the pressure and flow were wrong.
Copied.
Not written.
There was a witness signature and notary stamp too.
Official-looking.
Which made it worse.
