Chapter 4 - THE REPLACEMENT LICENSE
Rachel checked the issue date.
Eleven days earlier.
She stared at it.
Her original license had not expired.
She opened the Illinois Secretary of State website and checked the replacement process.
A replacement license could be requested after reporting one lost or stolen.
The permanent card would arrive by mail.
Rachel searched her email.
There it was.
A notice she had deleted without reading carefully during the chaos before surgery.
Replacement credential request processed.
She had assumed it was junk.
She called the Secretary of State’s fraud line and explained that she had not requested a replacement.
They could not resolve the matter instantly.
But they could flag the credential and document her dispute.
Rachel wrote down the reference number.
Then she called her bank.
No money had been moved.
No ownership had changed.
No mortgage existed on the condo; Rachel had bought it seven years earlier and paid it off after selling stock from her previous employer.
That made Brooke’s urgency stranger.
If the goal was money, nothing obvious had happened yet.
Rachel contacted an attorney recommended by a colleague.
Samantha Hsu specialized in estate planning and financial exploitation cases.
She reviewed the power of attorney by video call that afternoon.
“First,” Samantha said, “a forged signature doesn’t become valid because somebody notarized it.”
Rachel exhaled.
“Second, do not destroy the original.”
“I won’t.”
“Third, we notify every relevant institution that you dispute it.”
Rachel looked toward the burgundy folder.
“Can Brooke sell my condo with this?”
“Not instantly. Real-estate transactions require more than waving a paper around. But I don’t want to guess what she intended.”
Rachel hated how reasonable that answer was.
She wanted a clean villain.
A clean motive.
A clean solution.
Samantha kept reading.
“This handwritten clause bothers me.”
“The leasing part?”
“Yes. It’s oddly specific.”
Rachel remembered Brooke’s career.
She managed luxury rentals and represented investors who bought Chicago condos.
Samantha asked, “Has your sister ever discussed renting your unit?”
“No.”
“Buying it?”
Rachel almost said no.
Then she remembered Christmas.
Brooke had walked through Rachel’s condo complimenting the lake view.
You could get obscene rent for this place during the summer.
Rachel had laughed.
I live here.
Brooke had replied:
For now.
At the time it sounded like one of Brooke’s usual competitive jokes.
Now it felt different.
Samantha asked whether Rachel could stay somewhere safer for a few nights.
Rachel looked around the condo.
“No.”
“You’re recovering from surgery.”
“This is my home.”
Samantha studied her for a moment.
“Then change the locks.”
Rachel did.
That evening, the locksmith removed the cylinder.
Before replacing it, he held up the old mechanism.
“This was copied recently.”
Rachel frowned.
“How can you tell?”
“Wear pattern on the keyway. Somebody’s been using a fresh cut.”
May you like
The second key in Brooke’s folder had not been decorative.
She had already used it.
