Chapter 5 - MICHAEL’S SIGNATURE
The document Diane held was only two pages long.
It was dated eleven months before Michael died.
The signature at the bottom looked like his.
In the statement, Michael supposedly wrote that I was exhausted, unpredictable, overwhelmed by motherhood, and sometimes “unable to meet the children’s basic needs.” He asked that if anything happened to him, his mother be given “special consideration” in decisions involving the twins.
I read it once.
Then I noticed the date.
“No,” I said.
Diane tilted her chin. “You recognize his signature.”
“I recognize the date.”
Michael had been in Denver that week after emergency surgery. I had flown there with him. We spent four nights in a hospital room with a broken television and terrible coffee.
Diane had not been with us.
Maya took the paper from my hand.
“Was this notarized?”
Diane hesitated.
“Michael trusted me.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
By eight-thirty, we were driving to court.
At the hearing, Diane’s lawyer claimed the children were in danger. Maya answered with the guardianship packet and the county worker’s preliminary findings.
The judge did not dismiss the case.
That terrified me.
But she refused Diane’s request for emergency custody and ordered that the twins remain with me pending a formal review.
She also warned Diane not to contact the children outside approved channels.
As we left the courtroom, Diane walked past me without looking over.
Then she whispered, “You think you won because you found one folder.”
I stopped.
She kept walking.
Maya touched my elbow. “Don’t engage.”
I watched Diane disappear into the elevator.
“What did she mean?” I asked.
Maya looked at the copy of Michael’s alleged statement in her hand.
“I don’t know,” she said. “But I’m going to find out who prepared this.”
May you like
That afternoon, she called me.
The notary stamp belonged to a man who had been dead for three years.
