Chapter 4 - Someone Using His Name
Adrian slept less than two hours.
At 5:40 the next morning, he sat in the kitchen with coffee he had forgotten to drink.
The blue lunchbox remained on the counter.
He had washed it before bed.
The scratch from where it hit the cabinet was still visible.
Sophie entered wearing pajamas.
“Couldn’t sleep?”
He looked at her.
“Could you?”
She shook her head.
Adrian pulled out the chair beside him.
She sat.
“Where’s Celine?”
“Hotel.”
“Is she coming back?”
“Not today.”
Sophie nodded.
Adrian studied her face.
“Does that make you feel safer?”
The question surprised her.
“Yes.”
He hated the relief in her voice.
“I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For not noticing.”
Sophie stared at the table.
“You were working.”
“That’s an explanation.”
She looked up.
“Not an excuse?”
“No.”
They sat quietly.
Then Sophie said, “She used your name before.”
Adrian’s cup stopped halfway to his mouth.
“What?”
“On the phone.”
“When?”
“A few weeks ago.”
“Tell me.”
Sophie frowned as she tried to remember.
“I was doing homework in the dining room. Celine was in your office.”
“My office?”
“She closed the door. I went to ask for printer paper.”
“What did you hear?”
“She said, ‘Yes, this is Adrian Mercer.’”
Adrian set the cup down.
“Was she talking like me?”
“No. She just said your name.”
“What else?”
“She said something about documents.”
“Which documents?”
“I don’t know.”
Sophie hesitated.
“She told them to send everything electronically.”
Adrian’s stomach tightened.
“Did she use my computer?”
“I think so.”
He stood.
His home office was at the back of the house.
The door had no lock.
His laptop sat on the desk.
He opened it.
Password.
He entered it.
Then stopped.
Celine knew his password.
He had told her two years ago when she needed to print travel confirmations.
He opened his email.
Nothing obvious.
Sent folder.
Nothing.
Deleted messages.
Empty.
He checked browser history.
Mostly work sites.
Sports.
News.
Then several entries from three weeks earlier.
Mercer Family Trust — secure client portal.
Adrian stared.
He had not visited Margaret’s portal in months.
Another page:
Connecticut business entity search.
Another:
Quitclaim deed requirements.
Another:
Transfer-on-death deed Connecticut.
His skin went cold.
Sophie stood behind him.
“Is that bad?”
“I don’t know yet.”
He did.
He just did not want to frighten her.
“Go wake Noah.”
“Dad—”
“Please.”
She left.
Adrian took photographs of the browser history with his phone before touching anything else.
Then he called Margaret.
By 8:30, they were in her office.
Eleanor brought the manila envelope.
Adrian brought his laptop.
Margaret’s office occupied the second floor of a converted brick house near the county courthouse.
She had represented Eleanor for twelve years.
She was sixty-three, direct and almost aggressively organized.
She spread the documents across a conference table.
“We need to separate what we know from what we suspect.”
Adrian nodded.
“Known first.”
Margaret pointed.
“Eleanor denies signing this power of attorney.”
“Yes.”
“The bank confirms it was used.”
“Yes.”
“Two transfers reached CJM Property Holdings.”
“Yes.”
“The third was stopped.”
“Yes.”
“Celine admits CJM is hers?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
Adrian frowned.
“Good?”
“Good for evidence.”
Eleanor looked tired but alert.
Margaret continued.
“My office received a call from someone identifying herself as your assistant and then putting a man on the line who identified himself as Adrian.”
Adrian frowned.
“A man?”
“Yes.”
“That wasn’t Celine.”
“Correct.”
“Who was it?”
“I don’t know.”
For the first time, the shape of the problem expanded beyond Celine.
Margaret slid over her notes.
“The caller asked about trust assets, particularly the Riverbend property.”
Adrian stared.
Riverbend was Eleanor’s house in Litchfield County.
Forty wooded acres surrounding the farmhouse where Adrian had grown up.
His father, Thomas, had restored it room by room.
After Thomas died, Eleanor placed the property into a revocable trust.
“Why Riverbend?”
“It’s valuable.”
“How valuable?”
“Current estimate? Somewhere between $1.8 and $2.2 million.”
Adrian looked at his mother.
“You never told me it had gone up that much.”
“I didn’t know.”
Margaret continued.
“The caller wanted to know whether the trust allowed the property to be sold without beneficiary consent.”
“What did you say?”
“That Eleanor is trustee and may sell while competent, but I would not release documents without written authorization.”
“And then?”
“Nothing.”
Eleanor looked at Adrian.
“Until the bank called me.”
Margaret leaned back.
“If someone intended to gain control of the trust, the forged power of attorney might have been one route.”
Adrian looked at the document.
“But this only gives Celine authority over financial accounts.”
“Read paragraph twelve.”
He did.
The agent was granted authority concerning real property.
His stomach turned.
“Could she sell Riverbend?”
“Not simply by waving this document. Title companies perform checks. Trusteeship complicates it. But she could certainly create problems, and depending on what additional documents she obtained or forged, she might attempt something.”
Eleanor whispered, “Why?”
No one answered.
Margaret looked toward Adrian.
“What is Celine’s financial situation?”
“She earns well.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
Adrian frowned.
“She has consulting clients.”
“Do you know her income?”
“Not precisely.”
“Debt?”
“We have a mortgage. Cars. Normal things.”
“Joint accounts?”
“One household account. My business finances are separate.”
“Her company?”
“Separate.”
Margaret folded her hands.
“Then you need a forensic accountant.”
The phrase sounded absurd in Adrian’s family.
“For my marriage?”
“For the money.”
By noon, they had filed fraud notices with two banks and notified the county recorder to flag suspicious filings concerning Riverbend.
Eleanor signed a formal revocation of the false power of attorney.
Margaret contacted police.
An officer took an initial report.
Nothing happened instantly.
No handcuffs.
No dramatic raid.
Just documentation.
That frustrated Adrian.
But Margaret warned him.
“Forgery and financial exploitation investigations take evidence. Do not confront Celine with information she doesn’t know we have.”
Adrian nodded.
His phone vibrated.
Celine.
He almost ignored it.
Margaret said, “Answer if you can remain calm.”
He put it on speaker.
“What?”
Celine’s voice was softer than he expected.
“We need to talk.”
“We are talking.”
“Alone.”
“No.”
A pause.
“Adrian, someone is manipulating your mother.”
He looked at Eleanor.
“Who?”
“Sophie.”
Adrian’s expression hardened.
“That’s enough.”
“No, listen. Your daughter wants me gone.”
“My daughter did not transfer forty-two thousand dollars into your company.”
Silence.
Then Celine said something that changed the room.
“I can put it back.”
Adrian looked at Margaret.
She was already writing.
“You can put what back?”
“The money.”
“So you took it.”
“I borrowed it.”
“Without permission?”
“I thought Eleanor would agree.”
“You forged her signature.”
“I did not forge it.”
“Then who did?”
Silence.
Adrian leaned toward the phone.
“Celine?”
Her breathing changed.
When she answered, her voice was barely audible.
“I never said I did this alone.”
May you like
Then the line went dead.
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