Chapter 3 · My Name Was Erased from Our House

After I left the notary office, I didn't go straight to get the forensic analysis done.

I had something else to take care of first.

I stopped at a print shop on the side of the road. I made four copies—my attendance records from the bank, the property transfer details from the county recorder's office, a duplicate of the notarized document, and a photo of Linda's employee badge.

I lined them up neatly and slipped them into a clear plastic folder.

Then I made a phone call, but not to David. I called my college roommate, Jessica Hart. She was a partner at a law firm now.

I said, "Jessica, can you meet up? It's kind of urgent."

"Where are you?"

"Sunvale. Near the Eastgate Notary Office."

"I just wrapped up a meeting downtown. Give me thirty minutes."

I waited for her at a coffee shop across from the notary office. I ordered a black coffee and didn't take a single sip.

Jessica showed up in a rush.

She went through all four documents in my hands, and her expression shifted. She asked, "Aubrey, are you absolutely sure you never went to this notary office?"

"I'm sure. I was at the bank the morning of October fourteenth, and the attendance record is right here. On top of that, the signature on the document isn't my handwriting."

"What about the fingerprint?"

"I haven't had it analyzed yet, but there's no way it's mine. I was never there."

Jessica set the documents down and leaned back in her chair. "Aubrey, this isn't just a simple marital property dispute."

"I know."

"If the notary knew the person who showed up wasn't you and still issued the document, that's forgery of a notarized record. That's a felony."

"I know."

She looked at me. "You already looked into this, didn't you?"

"I've worked at the bank for six years. I've seen plenty of real estate fraud cases come through. But I need to confirm one thing."

"Go ahead."

"What if the notary is a relative of my husband?"

Jessica's eyebrows shot up. "What do you mean?"

"The notary's name is Linda Foster. My husband's last name is Foster. I dug into David's family tree back in his hometown, and he has a cousin named Linda."

I handed her my phone, open to David's Instagram.

On Thanksgiving Day 2023, he had posted a photo from a family gathering. The caption read: [Rare to get the whole crew together.]

The third person from the left in the second row had short hair and flawless makeup. She looked exactly like the notary sitting across from me today.

Jessica stared at the photo for a long time. "A family connection and a forged notarization. Aubrey, your husband and his cousin worked together to remove your name from the deed with a fake notarized document."

"Yes," I said.

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

"Press criminal charges."

Jessica glanced at me. "You're not even hesitating? He's still your husband."

I picked up my coffee and took the first sip. It was bitter.

"Jessica, that 120 thousand down payment came from selling my pre-marital condo. My parents saved every penny for fifteen years to buy me that little one-bedroom. He didn't just steal a name off a piece of paper."

I set the cup down. "He stole fifteen years of my parents' lives."

*****

Over the next three days, I didn't let anything show.

I went to work, cooked dinner, and talked to David like nothing had changed.

He didn't act any differently either.

He came home for dinner, watched football, and left his socks balled up under the couch like he always did.

On the first night, he got a phone call. He walked out to the balcony and pulled the door shut behind him.

I was washing dishes in the kitchen with the water running loudly, but I turned off the faucet.

His voice came through the glass, muffled but clear enough.

"Relax, she'll never find out. She's a bank teller. She doesn't know how any of this works.

"Yeah, you handled the paperwork. It's not like we brought in a stranger.

"By March at the latest, the house will be mine when we divorce."

He laughed. "Then we sell it and split it fifty-fifty."

Fifty-fifty. Split it with who? Linda? Or someone else?

I turned the faucet back on and kept washing the dishes.

During my lunch break the next day, I pulled up David's credit inquiry records on my work computer.

He had checked his credit report three months ago.

There were only a few reasons someone would do that. A loan, a home purchase, or a background check.

He never mentioned any of it to me.

I didn't go straight home after work the following day. Instead, I drove to the property management office at the Maple Ridge Drive complex.

I showed my ID as the unit owner and asked to see the visitor log for unit 1402.

There was an entry dated October 14th. A woman named Sophie Lane had signed in to visit 1402.

Sophie Lane. I didn't recognize the name, but she had been inside our home on the same day my name was removed from the deed.

I pulled out my phone and took a photo.

On my way out of the office, I ran into Tracy Williams, our neighbor from 1401.

Tracy smiled and said, "Aubrey! It's been forever."

I smiled back. "Hey, Tracy. How've you been?"

Tracy tilted her head and said, "Your husband's been home a lot lately. I saw him getting into the elevator with some girl the other day."

She said it casually, as if she were talking about the weather.

I kept my voice steady. "When was that?"

Tracy shrugged. "Sometime last month, I think. It happened a few times, actually. Tall, thin girl with long hair. Dressed really stylish."

She paused and added, "I figured she was a friend of yours."

I let out a small laugh. "Probably just a coworker."

Tracy waved her hand. "Yeah, that makes sense." Then she turned and walked off.

I stood at the entrance of our building, and the December wind cut through me again. It was colder this time.

David wasn't just stealing my home. He was stealing my marriage.

I should have fallen apart, but the strange thing was, I didn't feel like crying at all. There was just this dull pressure in my chest, like a block of ice sitting right over my heart.

The ice wouldn't melt because there was no warmth left to thaw it.

Chapter 3

After I left the notary office, I didn't go straight to get the forensic analysis done.

I had something else to take care of first.

I lined them up neatly and slipped them into a clear plastic folder.

Then I made a phone call, but not to David. I called my college roommate, Jessica Hart. She was a partner at a law firm now.

I said, "Jessica, can you meet up? It's kind of urgent."

"Where are you?"

"Sunvale. Near the Eastgate Notary Office."

"I just wrapped up a meeting downtown. Give me thirty minutes."

I waited for her at a coffee shop across from the notary office. I ordered a black coffee and didn't take a single sip.

Jessica showed up in a rush.

She went through all four documents in my hands, and her expression shifted. She asked, "Aubrey, are you absolutely sure you never went to this notary office?"

"I'm sure. I was at the bank the morning of October fourteenth, and the attendance record is right here. On top of that, the signature on the document isn't my handwriting."

"What about the fingerprint?"

"I haven't had it analyzed yet, but there's no way it's mine. I was never there."

Jessica set the documents down and leaned back in her chair. "Aubrey, this isn't just a simple marital property dispute."

"I know."

"If the notary knew the person who showed up wasn't you and still issued the document, that's forgery of a notarized record. That's a felony."

"I know."

She looked at me. "You already looked into this, didn't you?"

"I've worked at the bank for six years. I've seen plenty of real estate fraud cases come through. But I need to confirm one thing."

"Go ahead."

"What if the notary is a relative of my husband?"

Jessica's eyebrows shot up. "What do you mean?"

"The notary's name is Linda Foster. My husband's last name is Foster. I dug into David's family tree back in his hometown, and he has a cousin named Linda."

I handed her my phone, open to David's Instagram.

On Thanksgiving Day 2023, he had posted a photo from a family gathering. The caption read: [Rare to get the whole crew together.]

The third person from the left in the second row had short hair and flawless makeup. She looked exactly like the notary sitting across from me today.

"Yes," I said.

"What are you going to do?" she asked.

"Press criminal charges."

Jessica glanced at me. "You're not even hesitating? He's still your husband."

I picked up my coffee and took the first sip. It was bitter.

I set the cup down. "He stole fifteen years of my parents' lives."

*****

Over the next three days, I didn't let anything show.

I went to work, cooked dinner, and talked to David like nothing had changed.

He didn't act any differently either.

He came home for dinner, watched football, and left his socks balled up under the couch like he always did.

On the first night, he got a phone call. He walked out to the balcony and pulled the door shut behind him.

I was washing dishes in the kitchen with the water running loudly, but I turned off the faucet.

His voice came through the glass, muffled but clear enough.

"Relax, she'll never find out. She's a bank teller. She doesn't know how any of this works.

"Yeah, you handled the paperwork. It's not like we brought in a stranger.

"By March at the latest, the house will be mine when we divorce."

He laughed. "Then we sell it and split it fifty-fifty."

Fifty-fifty. Split it with who? Linda? Or someone else?

I turned the faucet back on and kept washing the dishes.

During my lunch break the next day, I pulled up David's credit inquiry records on my work computer.

He had checked his credit report three months ago.

There were only a few reasons someone would do that. A loan, a home purchase, or a background check.

He never mentioned any of it to me.

I didn't go straight home after work the following day. Instead, I drove to the property management office at the Maple Ridge Drive complex.

I showed my ID as the unit owner and asked to see the visitor log for unit 1402.

There was an entry dated October 14th. A woman named Sophie Lane had signed in to visit 1402.

Sophie Lane. I didn't recognize the name, but she had been inside our home on the same day my name was removed from the deed.

I pulled out my phone and took a photo.

On my way out of the office, I ran into Tracy Williams, our neighbor from 1401.

Tracy smiled and said, "Aubrey! It's been forever."

I smiled back. "Hey, Tracy. How've you been?"

Tracy tilted her head and said, "Your husband's been home a lot lately. I saw him getting into the elevator with some girl the other day."

She said it casually, as if she were talking about the weather.

I kept my voice steady. "When was that?"

Tracy shrugged. "Sometime last month, I think. It happened a few times, actually. Tall, thin girl with long hair. Dressed really stylish."

She paused and added, "I figured she was a friend of yours."

I let out a small laugh. "Probably just a coworker."

Tracy waved her hand. "Yeah, that makes sense." Then she turned and walked off.

I stood at the entrance of our building, and the December wind cut through me again. It was colder this time.

David wasn't just stealing my home. He was stealing my marriage.

I should have fallen apart, but the strange thing was, I didn't feel like crying at all. There was just this dull pressure in my chest, like a block of ice sitting right over my heart.

The ice wouldn't melt because there was no warmth left to thaw it.