CHAPTER 5 – The Forged Signature
CHAPTER 5 – The Forged Signature
For a full ten seconds, I couldn't breathe.
My name.
My signature.
On a legal document I had never seen.
At the bottom of the application, beneath the forged signature, was a timestamp from the previous Monday.
Twenty-four hours before Doña Esperanza had unlocked my front door with the spare key.
This had never been a desperate last-minute decision.
It had been planned.
Every single part of it.
I slowly turned the laptop toward Camilo.
"What is this?"
He stared at the screen without answering.
"I asked you a question."
His voice came out barely above a whisper.
"I was going to tell you."
"When?"
"After everything settled down."
I laughed once.
A short, empty sound.
"After your mother became a permanent resident in my apartment?"
"I thought if she was already living with us..."
"...you'd eventually accept it."
"No."
"I thought you'd calm down."
"No."
"I thought—"
"You thought taking away my choice would be easier than respecting it."
He closed his eyes.
"I didn't forge it."
"Then who did?"
Silence.
"Camilo."
He swallowed hard.
"Mateo."
The room seemed to tilt.
"What?"
"He filled out the paperwork."
"And my signature?"
"I... I emailed him an old lease with your signature on it."
I stared at him in disbelief.
"You gave him a copy of my signature?"
"I didn't think he'd actually use it."
"You didn't think?"
My voice echoed through the apartment.
"You didn't think when you gave someone a copy of my legal signature?"
He didn't answer.
Because there wasn't one.
My phone was already in my hand.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm calling the landlord."
"Please don't."
"I'm calling the police after that."
His face drained of color.
"Please, Sofia."
It was the first time he'd said my name all evening.
Too late.
I dialed the landlord.
Mr. Alvarez answered after the second ring.
"Sofia?"
"I'm sorry to bother you this late."
"Everything okay?"
"No."
"I need to ask you about an application that was submitted this week."
There was a pause.
"Oh."
"You mean the occupancy request?"
"Yes."
"I was actually waiting for you to confirm it."
My heart skipped.
"What do you mean?"
"The application looked unusual."
"Why?"
"Because your signature didn't match the one on your original lease."
I froze.
"You noticed?"
"Of course."
"I've managed properties for thirty years."
"I wasn't going to approve anything until both tenants came into the office."
A wave of relief washed over me.
The application hadn't been accepted.
Not yet.
"Mr. Alvarez..."
"I never signed that document."
Silence.
Then his voice became serious.
"I thought something wasn't right."
"I'm deleting it immediately."
"No."
I looked directly at Camilo.
"Please don't delete it."
"I'll need a copy."
"For evidence."
The next morning I met with a lawyer recommended by a coworker.
She reviewed everything.
The forged application.
The emails.
The text messages.
The timeline.
Finally she looked up.
"Did your husband admit sending your signature to his brother?"
"Yes."
"Do you have that in writing?"
"No."
"Can you get it?"
I thought for a moment.
"I think so."
She folded her hands.
"Sofia..."
"What they attempted isn't just unethical."
"If someone knowingly forged your signature on housing documents..."
"...that could have legal consequences."
"What should I do?"
She handed me a yellow legal pad.
"Start documenting everything."
"Every text."
"Every phone call."
"Every date."
"Every witness."
She paused.
"And don't leave your daughter alone with anyone involved."
That sentence stayed with me all day.
Not because I thought anyone would hurt my little girl.
Because I suddenly realized how little I truly knew about my husband's family.
That afternoon my phone buzzed.
A message from an unknown number.
Don't destroy this family over paperwork.
Another message arrived seconds later.
A good wife protects her husband.
Then another.
Think about your daughter before you do something you'll regret.
No name.
No signature.
But I already knew who had sent them.
Mateo.
I took screenshots.
Forwarded them to my lawyer.
Blocked the number.
Five minutes later another unknown number appeared.
This time there was only one sentence.
You're making powerful enemies.
I smiled.
May you like
Because people who are truly powerful don't send anonymous threats.
Desperate people do.
