Chapter 3 - THE LAND HATTIE NEEDED
Penelope photographed the loan agreement before returning it to Michael’s desk.
She spent the night pretending to sleep.
Beside her, Michael breathed evenly.
She wondered how many times he had kissed her while hiding documents bearing her forged signature.
The next morning, she drove to Donna’s farm.
She did not tell Michael where she was going.
Donna was repairing a fence when Penelope arrived.
One look at her daughter’s face was enough.
“What happened?”
Penelope showed her the photographs.
Donna read the pages twice.
Then she sat down on an overturned bucket.
“They cannot use my farm as collateral.”
“Michael used my signature as your authorized representative.”
“You were never my representative.”
“I know.”
Donna’s hands trembled, but her voice remained controlled.
Rosegate Development had been trying to purchase her farm for nearly two years.
Hattie claimed she wanted to build an elegant residential community.
Donna refused every offer.
The farm had belonged to Penelope’s father, Samuel.
His ashes were buried beneath the old willow tree near the creek.
Donna had promised him she would never allow the land to become another gated neighborhood for wealthy buyers.
“What haven’t you told me?” Penelope asked.
Donna looked toward the farmhouse.
“Hattie does not want the land because of the view.”
Rosegate’s newest project covered nearly six hundred acres surrounding Donna’s property.
The company had bought every neighboring parcel.
But Donna’s farm controlled the legal access to Willow Creek, the only reliable water source in the area.
Without Donna’s water and easement rights, Rosegate could not receive final construction approval.
Hattie had already collected millions from investors.
She had promised construction would begin before the end of the year.
“If she does not get this farm,” Donna said, “her project may collapse.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because you were married to her son.”
“I’m your daughter.”
“And I was afraid any warning would make him isolate you from me.”
Donna had been right.
When Penelope returned to the mansion, Michael was waiting in the bedroom.
“How was your mother?”
Penelope stopped.
“I didn’t say I went there.”
“The car tracks your location.”
Michael held out his hand.
“Give me your phone.”
“No.”
His expression hardened.
“Penelope, do not make this difficult.”
“You forged my signature.”
He did not deny it.
Instead, he closed the door.
“The farm will make all of us rich.”
“It isn’t ours.”
“It will be.”
“My mother said no.”
“Your mother is an emotional old woman holding valuable land hostage because of a dead man.”
Penelope slapped him.
The sound shocked them both.
Michael touched his cheek.
For a moment, she thought he would strike her.
Instead, he smiled.
It was worse.
“You just made a serious mistake.”
That night, Michael changed the mansion’s security code.
He took Penelope’s car keys.
Hattie instructed the staff that Penelope was not permitted to leave without a driver.
By morning, Penelope’s access to the joint bank account had been removed.
She was not a wife living in a mansion anymore.
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She was a prisoner wearing expensive clothes.
👉 When Penelope searched the forged agreement more closely, she found a second signature—belonging to a notary who had supposedly died eight months earlier.
