Chapter 8 - THE LIE SHE BUILT
The lawsuit was insane.
At least, that’s what I thought.
My attorney didn’t laugh.
That worried me.
Her name was Rachel Kim.
Sharp voice.
Sharp eyes.
Zero patience for nonsense.
She read Teresa’s complaint twice.
“She’s claiming she financially contributed to the purchase of the property.”
“She didn’t.”
“She claims she gave you sixty thousand dollars for the down payment.”
“She gave me five thousand as a wedding gift eight years ago.”
“Do you have proof?”
“Bank records.”
“Good.”
Rachel turned the page.
“She also claims you promised to put her name on the deed.”
“I never did.”
“Any texts? Emails?”
“No.”
“Anything that could be twisted?”
I thought about every casual conversation I’d had with my mother.
I’ll always take care of you.
You’ll never have to worry.
What’s mine is yours.
Normal things a son says.
Rachel saw my face.
“What?”
“I’ve probably said stupid stuff.”
“Everybody has. That’s why litigation exists.”
Amy sat beside me.
Rachel turned to her.
“And she alleges you isolated Connor from his family.”
Amy blinked.
“Me?”
“She calls you controlling.”
Amy laughed in disbelief.
“I was washing dishes at her party while holding a sick baby.”
Rachel nodded.
“That fact will be useful.”
Then she showed us another page.
My mother claimed the three thousand dollars I sent every month weren’t support payments.
She claimed they were repayments.
“For what?” I asked.
Rachel looked up.
“For a loan she says she gave you years ago.”
I leaned back.
“She’s rewriting my entire life.”
“Yes.”
Amy spoke quietly.
“She’s been doing that for months.”
Rachel nodded.
“People who commit financial fraud often build a narrative before the fraud itself. They need a story that makes the paperwork look believable.”
My phone buzzed.
Detective Harris.
I answered.
“We have movement on the notary.”
“Betsy?”
“She says Teresa asked her to notarize a signature.”
“Mine?”
“Yes.”
“Without me present?”
“Betsy claims Teresa told her you had already signed.”
“That’s illegal.”
“Yes.”
“Is Betsy being charged?”
“Possibly.”
Amy whispered, “Ask about Mason.”
I did.
Harris paused.
“Mason is talking.”
My heart kicked.
“What did he say?”
“He says your mother planned the whole thing.”
“Convenient.”
“I agree.”
“What else?”
“He says she promised him forty thousand dollars after the loan funded.”
I stood.
“How much was the loan?”
“Two hundred eighty thousand.”
The room went silent.
Rachel slowly put her pen down.
My mother had tried to pull nearly three hundred thousand dollars out of my home.
Harris kept talking.
“And Connor?”
“Yes?”
“Mason says Teresa didn’t come up with the idea alone.”
My stomach tightened.
“Who did?”
“He gave us a name.”
“Whose?”
Harris said it.
May you like
I almost dropped the phone.
Because the man helping my mother steal my house was someone I’d known for fifteen years.
