I almost laughed. “I went behind your back?”
He stopped.
“Nate,” I said quietly, “I know about the divorce. I know about the forged signature and the notary who’s your mother’s best friend. I know about the quitclaim deed, and the QDRO, and the $88,400 you took out of my 401(k). I know about the home equity line. And I know about the gambling.”
His face drained of color.
“And I know you signed for the certified letter from my uncle’s estate attorney in January,” I said. “Three months before I knew anything.”
He sat down hard on a barstool.
For a long time, he didn’t say anything. The pasta water boiled over on the stove, and I turned off the burner.
