Chapter 7 - WHY THEY GAVE ME THE APARTMENT
Dad refused to explain in front of Mom.
She seemed delighted by that.
“Tell her, Arthur.”
“Diane.”
“Tell your perfect daughter why that apartment is in her name.”
I looked between them.
“Dad?”
He sat down on a bench outside the boarding house.
For a moment, he looked completely defeated.
Then he spoke.
“Five years ago, I owed more money than you knew.”
“How much?”
“A lot.”
“That isn’t a number.”
“Nearly three hundred thousand.”
My stomach dropped.
Mom crossed her arms.
“Your father was brilliant with money.”
Dad ignored her.
“I had personally guaranteed business debts. We were afraid creditors might come after the apartment.”
Nathan had suspected something similar.
But what came next surprised me.
Dad continued.
“We transferred it to you because the lawyer said you were the one person in the family who wouldn’t exploit us.”
I stared at him.
“So you trusted me enough to protect your home.”
“Yes.”
“And then used my trust to borrow against it.”
His eyes closed.
“Yes.”
Mom interrupted.
“It was still our apartment.”
“No,” I said. “That’s what you keep refusing to understand.”
“Paperwork doesn’t erase history.”
“Neither does history erase paperwork.”
She laughed bitterly.
“You really have become cold.”
“No. I became tired.”
Dad looked up.
“There’s more.”
Mom spun toward him.
“Arthur.”
He continued anyway.
“The first loan wasn’t the only one.”
My skin went cold.
“What?”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“There was a refinancing attempt last year.”
“Attempt?”
“It didn’t go through.”
“Why not?”
“Because the lender asked for video identification from you.”
I almost couldn’t process what I was hearing.
“You tried to do it again?”
“I didn’t.”
“Who did?”
Dad looked at Mom.
My mother’s expression hardened.
Then he looked at Karla’s name on my phone screen.
“No.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
Dad whispered, “Karla found another lender.”
My stomach turned.
Mom snapped, “Stop talking.”
But Dad had finally started.
And after thirty-four years of silence, he apparently had a lot to say.
“Karla needed money.”
“For what?”
He hesitated.
“Her boyfriend.”
“Karla’s boyfriend?”
“She invested in a business with him.”
I remembered Brandon.
Flashy car.
Designer watches.
Always talking about crypto, restaurants, property deals.
“How much?”
“Forty thousand.”
I stared at Dad.
“And they tried to use my apartment?”
“Yes.”
“Without telling me?”
“Yes.”
Mom stepped toward him.
“You spineless idiot.”
Dad stood.
“No, Diane. I’m done.”
She slapped him.
Right there on the sidewalk.
Sophia saw it through the window.
“Grandpa!”
That single cry changed everything.
I ran upstairs.
Mom left.
Dad stood outside alone.
That night, after Sophia fell asleep, I called Nathan.
“We need to investigate the failed refinancing.”
“Why?”
“Because Karla was involved.”
There was a pause.
Then Nathan said, “Laura, I received something today that you need to see.”
“What?”
“The lender sent the full payment history on the original loan.”
“And?”
“The payments didn’t stop because your parents ran out of money.”
My grip tightened around the phone.
“Then why did they stop?”
“They didn’t.”
I frowned.
Nathan continued.
“The loan is current.”
I went still.
“Who’s paying it?”
“That’s the problem.”
May you like
He paused.
“The payments are coming from an account in your name.”
