Chapter 4 - THE PROPERTY IN MY NAME
I met Lauren in a coffee shop across town.
She looked nothing like the woman I had imagined.
No dramatic makeup.
No expensive dress.
Just jeans, a gray sweater, and the expression of someone who hadn’t slept.
She didn’t ask me to forgive her.
I appreciated that.
“I knew he was married,” she said.
“So don’t insult me by pretending you didn’t.”
“I won’t.”
“Good.”
She looked down.
“He told me you two were separated emotionally.”
“We ate dinner together every night.”
Her face tightened.
“He lied.”
“Yes. Apparently that’s his main skill.”
I slid the printed loan documents across the table.
Her eyes widened.
“He used your name for this?”
“My signature too.”
Lauren stared at the page.
“I swear I didn’t know.”
“Tell me about the property.”
She took a breath.
“Diego wanted to buy a shopping strip in Eastwood. He said his mother had found it before redevelopment plans became public.”
“How much?”
“Four hundred twenty thousand.”
“With whose money?”
“He told me family investors.”
I laughed bitterly.
“His family investor was me.”
Lauren reached into her bag.
“I brought copies.”
She placed a folder on the table.
The proposed ownership structure showed:
Morales Family Ventures — 51%.
T. Alvarez Holdings — 29%.
V. Morales Consulting — 20%.
I stared.
“What is V. Morales Consulting?”
Lauren looked confused.
“I assumed it was yours.”
“I don’t have a company.”
She went pale.
I looked through the incorporation papers.
V. Morales Consulting LLC.
Registered owner:
Verónica Morales.
Address:
Our house.
Formation documents signed digitally.
Again, my signature.
Again, not mine.
“What was this company supposed to do?”
“Hold part of the property.”
“Why?”
Lauren hesitated.
“Tax reasons.”
“Try again.”
She looked away.
“Because Diego said having assets tied to your name made the financing easier.”
I leaned toward her.
“He used my identity because my credit was better.”
She nodded.
“And if everything failed?”
She didn’t answer.
The answer was obvious.
I would be responsible.
Lauren wiped her eyes.
“I thought he was leaving you.”
“You helped him cheat on me.”
“I know.”
“You helped him buy property using a company you thought belonged to me.”
“I thought you knew.”
“You never called me.”
“No.”
“So don’t ask me to make you innocent.”
“I’m not.”
For the first time, I believed her.
She handed me one last envelope.
“I found this after you called.”
Inside was a copy of a purchase contract.
Closing date:
Monday.
Three days away.
“What happens Monday?”
“They transfer the rest of the funds.”
“How much?”
“Another hundred and ten thousand.”
“I froze the home-equity line.”
“They have another lender.”
I stared at her.
“Under whose name?”
Lauren swallowed.
“Yours.”
My phone rang.
My attorney.
I had hired her that morning.
I answered immediately.
“Verónica, where are you?”
“Downtown.”
“Don’t go home.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“No. Listen to me.”
Her voice was tight.
“I just ran a property search.”
My heart started pounding.
“What did you find?”
“Your husband filed documents yesterday.”
“What documents?”
“A deed transfer.”
My fingers went numb.
“For what?”
“Your house.”
I stood so fast the chair scraped backward.
“To whom?”
My attorney paused.
May you like
Then said:
“His mother.”
