Chapter 5 - Luca Had Power of Attorney
The document existed.
Durable financial power of attorney.
Executed eleven months earlier.
Agent:
Luca Pierce.
Alternate:
Wendy Pierce.
Not me.
I had never seen it.
Rachel reviewed the copy.
“Signature looks notarized properly.”
“Can we challenge it?”
“Maybe.”
“Was she competent?”
“That is not determined by diagnosis alone.”
I hated legally accurate answers.
They rarely arrived with the emotional clarity I wanted.
The notary was real.
Two witnesses.
One of them was the woman I had heard after midnight.
Carol Mercer.
Licensed social worker.
Professional guardian in some cases.
Not family.
That mattered.
If everyone involved had been Luca's friends, I could dismiss it.
Carol had credentials.
Why had she participated?
I called.
She agreed to meet only after Mom signed a release.
At a coffee shop downtown, Carol looked uncomfortable.
“Your brother told me Marian had no reliable daughter.”
“What does that mean?”
“That you were overseas, rarely available, and had declined involvement.”
“I sent money every month.”
“I was told that was financial support, not caregiving.”
“Did Mom say she wanted Luca as power of attorney?”
“Yes.”
I sat back.
“She chose him?”
“At that meeting, yes.”
“Was she medicated?”
“I don't know.”
“Did she understand what she was signing?”
“In my professional judgment at that moment, yes.”
That was not what I wanted to hear.
Carol continued.
“She said you were too busy.”
My face went hot.
“She said she didn't want to become another project on your calendar.”
That sounded like Mom.
Not Luca.
I looked away.
Carol said:
“Jessi, cognitive decline is not linear. Someone can lack capacity for one decision and retain it for another. People also change their minds.”
I knew.
I hated knowing.
Then:
“Why were you at the house this week?”
Her expression shifted.
“I wasn't.”
“Yes, you were.”
“No.”
I described the woman's voice.
Carol shook her head.
“Not me.”
Then who?
The next answer came from security footage.
I had installed exterior cameras when I bought the house.
Luca had changed the service provider.
But the old doorbell device still uploaded limited clips to an account tied to my email.
The woman who visited at 2:13 a.m. was not Carol.
She was younger.
Brown hair.
Black coat.
Leather portfolio.
Rachel identified her two days later.
Melissa Dane.
Ohio notary.
Real-estate closing agent.
“Closing what?”
Rachel pulled public records.
A mortgage application had been initiated against the property.
I laughed.
“That’s impossible. Luca doesn't own it.”
“Correct.”
“Mom doesn't own it either.”
“Correct.”
“Then what are they mortgaging?”
“That's what someone appears to be trying to solve.”
She showed me another document.
Draft quitclaim deed.
Grantor:
My LLC.
Grantee:
Marian Pierce Family Trust.
My signature line waited at the bottom.
Blank.
A second document followed.
Trustee:
Luca Pierce.
I stared.
“They need me.”
“Yes.”
“To sign away the house.”
“Yes.”
“Why would they think I would?”
Rachel looked at me.
May you like
“Maybe they don’t.”
That was the first time the possibility of forgery entered the room.
