Chapter 3 - THE DOOR STAYS CLOSED
Rachel switched off the buzzer.
Daniel called my phone. I answered on speaker.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“You know where I am.”
“I came to talk. Open the door.”
“You can talk from outside.”
For a moment he said nothing. Then his voice softened. “I lost my temper. I’m sorry.”
It was the first apology I had heard from him. I wanted to believe he meant it. I wanted the last thirteen days to be a terrible mistake we could somehow explain away.
But my cheek was swollen, and his brother’s company name sat on a document I had never signed.
“What did I sign?” I asked.
“What?”
“The property transfer agreement.”
I heard movement on his end, like he had turned away from the building.
“Dad called you.”
“He sent me a picture.”
“That’s a draft. Nothing happened.”
“It has my signature on it.”
“Emily, open the door.”
“Answer me.”
His voice sharpened. “You don’t understand how these things work.”
“Then explain.”
“We need the house as collateral for a short-term deal. The money comes back to us in a few months.”
“Michael’s company gets my house?”
“On paper. Temporarily.”
“You put my name on it without asking.”
“It was supposed to be a surprise.”
Rachel covered her mouth. I almost laughed.
“A surprise,” I repeated.
“You’ve been stressed about repairs. I found a solution.”
I ended the call.
Daniel buzzed twice more, then left. Rachel watched from the window until his car disappeared around the corner.
The next morning, she came with me to make a police report. I described the slap and showed the officer the photographs and messages. He gave me a report number. I asked him to note my concern about the document as well. He told me to bring the original to an attorney and contact the property records office if I feared someone might file it.
Outside, I sat on the low wall near the station and called Richard.
“I need the rest of the pages,” I said.
“I’ll get them.”
“And Richard? Why does Michael need my house?”
Richard’s breathing changed.
“His company owes people money.”
“How much?”
“I’m trying to find out.”
I returned to Rachel’s apartment to find a voicemail from a woman named Paula Shaw. She introduced herself as the notary Daniel had hired and asked me to confirm our ten o’clock appointment.
I called her back. She sounded surprised when I said I hadn’t scheduled it.
“Mr. Carter told me you’d signed most of the paperwork already,” she said. “He said you just needed to sign the acknowledgment in front of me.”
“I haven’t signed anything.”
May you like
Paula fell quiet.
Then she said, “Ms. Carter, the copy he emailed me includes an identification page. The driver’s license on it isn’t yours.”
