She turned the monitor slightly away from us and reached for the phone.
“What did you find?” I asked.
She didn’t answer immediately.
Then she looked at Grandma.
“There’s a quitclaim deed attached to your property record filed three days ago. It transfers full ownership of the Sterling estate to Arthur and Wendy Sterling.”
Grandma went completely still.
Before the clerk could explain further, my phone started ringing again.
Dad.
I tapped speakerphone right there at the counter.
“Where are you, Dad?”
Arthur’s voice came through, artificially strained and dramatic.
“Ivan! Thank God you picked up! Your mother and I are frantic. Your grandmother wandered off during lunch! We went to the restroom and she was gone. We’ve been searching for hours—”
“Stop lying, Dad,” I interrupted, my voice dropping into a razor-sharp register. “I’m sitting right next to Grandma Eleanor. I picked her up from the nursing facility where you abandoned her three hours ago.”
The silence on the other end was absolute.
“Ivan… you don’t understand the situation—” Arthur stammered.
“We’re at the county courthouse, Arthur,” Grandma Eleanor spoke up, her voice ringing clear, commanding, and totally devoid of weakness. “And I am standing in front of the land records desk looking at a forged quitclaim deed with my signature on it.”
Arthur’s breath hitched over the speaker.
“You have one hour to meet us at my house,” Grandma commanded. “If you aren’t there, the next call my grandson makes will be to the State Prosecutor’s elder fraud division.”
She hung up the phone herself.
