Chapter 3
I changed every lock the next morning.
Not one.
Every door.
Every garage remote.
Every security code.
Every password.
Then I installed cameras around the property while Amy and Frederick stayed with Marcus and his wife.
My mother called thirty-two times.
I answered none of them.
At noon, she arrived anyway.
The new camera alerted me before she reached the porch.
I stepped outside and locked the door behind me.
Teresa stopped on the walkway.
Her eyes narrowed when she saw the camera above me.
“You changed the locks?”
“Yes.”
“This is childish.”
“This is my house.”
“I’m your mother.”
“That doesn’t give you a key.”
Her face tightened.
“Are you seriously choosing that woman over your own family?”
I almost laughed.
“That woman is my wife.”
“She turned you against us.”
“No.”
I stepped down one stair.
“You did that yourself.”
Teresa glanced toward the street.
She hated scenes where strangers might watch.
Her voice lowered.
“Mason panicked.”
“He had my deed.”
“You told me months ago you wanted to protect the house.”
“From whom?”
“From taxes. Lawsuits. Your job.”
“With forged signatures?”
She froze.
Just for a second.
Enough.
“You knew.”
“Connor—”
“You knew those signatures were fake.”
She crossed her arms.
“You sign things without reading them all the time.”
“That is not an answer.”
“You’re making this bigger than it is.”
“Someone tried borrowing a quarter-million dollars against my house.”
Her confidence slipped.
She recovered quickly.
“It was an investment.”
“In what?”
She looked away.
I felt my pulse rise.
“What investment?”
“It doesn’t matter now.”
“It matters to the police.”
Her eyes snapped back to mine.
“You called police on your own mother.”
“You shoved an officer.”
“I was upset.”
“You stole my documents.”
“They were family documents.”
“No. They were mine.”
She stepped closer.
“I sacrificed everything for you.”
There it was.
The sentence she had used my entire life.
Every boundary became ingratitude.
Every disagreement became betrayal.
“I fed you.”
“You were my mother.”
“I clothed you.”
“You were my mother.”
“I put you through college.”
I stared at her.
“I had scholarships and loans.”
Her mouth tightened.
“You think Amy will stay once the money dries up?”
I almost smiled.
“This was never about Amy.”
“Oh, please.”
“You hated that she became my closest family.”
Teresa’s expression changed.
It was subtle.
But I saw it.
“You expected to stay at the center.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“You wanted my money.”
“I wanted stability.”
“You wanted my house.”
“For the family.”
“My family lives here.”
She laughed bitterly.
“Until she leaves.”
I stepped closer.
“Amy isn’t leaving.”
“She will.”
“No.”
“And then what?”
“Then it will still be none of your business.”
Teresa stared at me.
Something cold replaced her anger.
“You’re going to regret humiliating me.”
I heard the threat clearly.
So did the camera.
“Are you threatening me?”
She immediately stepped back.
“I said nothing.”
“You just did.”
“I’m your mother, Connor.”
“And you are not coming into this house again.”
Her face went pale.
“You don’t mean that.”
“I do.”
“You’d keep me from Frederick?”
“Yes.”
That broke her composure.
“You can’t!”
“I can protect my child from anyone who treats his mother the way you treated Amy.”
“She’s weak!”
I turned toward the camera.
“Keep talking.”
Teresa saw it.
Her mouth closed.
Then she left.
Thirty minutes later, Detective Grant arrived with a financial investigator named Lena Price.
They sat with me at the dining table.
Lena opened a laptop.
“We traced the private loan.”
“To my uncle?”
“To a company controlled by him.”
“What was the money for?”
“Bradley Family Holdings intended to purchase several distressed properties.”
I frowned.
“My mother doesn’t invest in real estate.”
“Your cousin Mason does.”
Of course.
Mason had bounced between careers for years.
Most recently, he called himself a real-estate entrepreneur.
He had failed to close three deals.
Apparently he decided my equity could finance the fourth.
Lena showed me documents.
Mason planned to use my house as collateral.
Teresa’s company would receive the funds.
Then Mason would purchase two houses at foreclosure.
“If they made money?” I asked.
“They would keep profits.”
“And if they lost?”
“You could lose your house.”
I sat back.
“So I took all the risk without knowing.”
“Essentially.”
“And Aunt Betsy?”
Lena opened another document.
Her husband’s company would earn enormous interest.
Betsy knew.
That explained her behavior at the party.
She was not just supporting Teresa.
She was protecting a deal.
“What about the three thousand dollars?”
“We subpoenaed Teresa’s account activity.”
My stomach tightened.
“Most of your transfers did not go toward household expenses for Amy.”
“Where?”
Lena looked at me.
“Luxury purchases. Credit-card debt. Payments to Mason.”
“How much to Mason?”
“Nearly twenty thousand over the year.”
I laughed in disbelief.
I had been financing his failed business while Amy worried about buying herself a dress.
Then Grant said, “There’s another issue.”
I hated those words now.
“What?”
“Your mother may have opened an account using Frederick’s information.”
I stood.
“What?”
“He’s one.”
“We know.”
“How?”
“We’re investigating.”
Lena raised a hand.
“Connor, sit.”
I didn’t.
“What did she do?”
“A credit-monitoring alert showed a custodial account connected to his Social Security number.”
“Is there debt?”
“We don’t know yet.”
My hands shook.
Using me was one thing.
Using Amy was worse.
Using my son crossed into something I could barely process.
“When did she get his number?”
Amy had given Teresa copies of hospital paperwork after Frederick was born because Teresa claimed she needed them to help add him to some family insurance benefit.
I had never questioned it.
I called Amy.
She answered immediately.
“What happened?”
“Did Mom ever ask for Frederick’s Social Security number?”
Silence.
Then:
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“She said she was opening a savings account for him.”
My stomach turned.
“Did she show you the account?”
“No.”
I closed my eyes.
After we hung up, Lena said, “We’ll freeze anything suspicious.”
I nodded.
Then Detective Grant’s phone rang.
He answered.
Listened.
His expression changed.
“What?”
He stood.
“We just heard from Mason’s attorney.”
“And?”
“Mason wants to cooperate.”
My pulse jumped.
“Against my mother?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Grant looked directly at me.
“Because he says Teresa came up with the entire plan.”
I almost laughed.
Of course.
Everyone involved had spent the last day insisting someone else was responsible.
But Grant wasn’t finished.
“Mason says he has messages.”
“What messages?”
“Your mother explaining exactly how she planned to pressure Amy into signing documents if you refused.”
My stomach dropped.
“Amy?”
“Yes.”
Apparently taking my house through me was only Plan A.
May you like
My mother had prepared another route.
And it involved convincing my exhausted, frightened wife that I wanted her signature.
