Chapter 4 - THE DEED
“A deed?”
Matthew’s face changed the second he heard the word.
I looked at him.
He knew.
“Daniel, say that again.”
“A quitclaim deed was submitted electronically nine days ago.”
Nine days ago.
While I was sleeping at my sister’s house.
“Was it recorded?”
“No. It was flagged because the notarization information didn’t match the state database.”
I closed my eyes.
For the first time since coming home, I felt physically sick.
“Whose signature is on it?”
“Yours.”
Of course.
“And who receives ownership?”
“Fifty percent to Matthew Porter.”
I looked directly at my son.
He sat perfectly still.
Daniel continued.
“I’m sending you a copy. Do not confront anyone until we speak.”
Too late.
I ended the call.
“Fifty percent?”
Matthew stood.
“Mom, listen.”
“Fifty percent?”
Jessica stepped forward.
“It wouldn’t have changed your right to live here.”
I turned toward her.
That sentence stunned me more than a denial would have.
“You knew.”
She didn’t answer.
“You both knew.”
Matthew started talking quickly.
“The lender wanted me attached to the property if we were going to refinance.”
“So you tried to put yourself on my deed.”
“We weren’t taking the house.”
“You were taking half.”
“You’d still own half.”
It was such an insane thing to say that I simply stared at him.
“You think telling me I could keep half my own house makes this better?”
He looked away.
Jessica snapped, “We were trying to keep from losing everything.”
“What are you losing?”
“My company.”
“Then close it.”
Her mouth opened.
I kept going.
“Sell the car. Sell the handbags. Sell whatever you have to sell.”
Her eyes hardened.
“You have no idea what I built.”
“And you have no idea what George and I built.”
Matthew stepped between us.
“Stop.”
“No,” I said. “We’re finally starting.”
I held up my phone.
“You submitted a fake deed.”
“It never went through.”
“Because you got caught.”
“That isn’t fair.”
I laughed.
“Fair?”
My voice shook.
“You moved into my house while I was gone. You removed my husband’s things. You took my bedroom. You used my digital signature. You created a fake power of attorney. And you attempted to transfer half of my home into your name.”
Matthew’s eyes filled with tears.
For one dangerous second, the mother in me reacted.
I wanted to comfort him.
Then George’s voice came back.
Don’t get smaller after I’m gone.
I straightened.
“You have one hour to pack.”
Jessica’s face twisted.
“You’re choosing a house over your son.”
“No.”
I pointed toward Matthew.
“My son chose a house over his mother.”
That landed.
Matthew closed his eyes.
Jessica grabbed her phone.
“Fine. We’ll go.”
“Good.”
“But don’t expect us back for Christmas.”
I almost smiled.
“Jessica, after this morning, I’m not expecting you back at all.”
She stormed from the room.
Matthew stayed.
“Mom.”
“What?”
“There’s something you need to understand.”
“No more explanations.”
“This isn’t only about debt.”
I stopped.
He looked toward the hallway to make sure Jessica was gone.
Then he lowered his voice.
“She owes somebody money.”
I stared at him.
“What do you mean?”
“Not the bank.”
My stomach dropped.
“Who?”
He swallowed.
“A private lender.”
“How much?”
He looked ashamed.
“One hundred twenty thousand.”
I felt the room tilt.
“On top of the eighty thousand?”
He nodded.
“What kind of private lender?”
“I don’t know exactly.”
“You borrowed from someone and you don’t know who?”
“Jessica handled it.”
“Matthew.”
“He’s been threatening her.”
“Who?”
“I’ve never met him.”
That was a lie.
I saw it immediately.
“You have.”
“No.”
“You looked away.”
He rubbed his face.
“I met him once.”
“What’s his name?”
He hesitated too long.
“Victor Shaw.”
“What does he want?”
“The money.”
“And if he doesn’t get it?”
Matthew didn’t answer.
“Matthew.”
His voice dropped.
“He knows where we live.”
I looked around my bedroom.
Then the truth struck me.
“No.”
Matthew stared at me.
“You didn’t move here just to save rent.”
His silence confirmed it.
“You moved here because he knew your apartment.”
“Mom—”
“You brought this to my house.”
He looked terrified.
And then, from downstairs, someone pounded on the front door.
Three slow knocks.
Hard enough to shake the frame.
May you like
Matthew went completely white.
“That’s him.”
