Chapter 4
The House He Thought He Owned
I watched my mother's face as Vanessa spoke.
At first, Mom looked confused.
Then frightened.
Then angry.
Very angry.
"What do you mean he's taking my house?"
I moved closer.
Vanessa's voice was loud enough for me to hear.
"Marcus told me he's selling the house next month."
My stomach tightened.
Selling?
The house belonged to my mother.
She'd purchased it before marrying Marcus.
She worked double shifts for years to afford the down payment.
She'd painted every room herself.
She'd planted the small garden outside our kitchen window.
And she'd made sure Lily and I always had somewhere safe to sleep.
Marcus had never paid the mortgage.
Not once.
Mom took a breath.
"Vanessa, this house is in my name."
A pause.
Then Vanessa whispered, "That's not what he told me."
Mom gripped the phone.
"What did he tell you?"
"That you transferred ownership to him last year."
I felt cold.
Mom stared at me.
"I never signed anything."
Vanessa sounded frightened.
"He showed me documents."
Mom sat down.
"What documents?"
"A deed."
My heart began pounding.
"Mom," I whispered.
She raised one hand.
Vanessa continued.
"He said the sale would give him enough money to open a business and buy a house for Noah."
Mom closed her eyes.
The silence stretched.
Then she asked, "Why are you telling me this?"
Vanessa began crying.
"Because he promised me we were going to be a family."
I felt sick.
She continued.
"He told me you were divorced."
Mom's eyes widened.
"What?"
"He said you were living separately."
I stared at the phone.
Marcus had been living two lives.
Two women.
Two children.
Two completely different stories.
Mom took a slow breath.
"We're still married."
Vanessa began sobbing.
"I didn't know."
I watched my mother.
She could have screamed at Vanessa.
Blamed her.
Called her names.
But she didn't.
Instead, Mom asked, "Does he know you're calling me?"
"No."
Vanessa's voice trembled.
"He left my apartment twenty minutes ago."
My stomach tightened.
"Did he say where he was going?"
Mom repeated the question.
Vanessa hesitated.
"To meet a man named Gerald."
I froze.
Gerald Price.
I recognized the name.
He was a real estate agent who occasionally came to Marcus's basketball games.
I'd met him twice.
He always wore expensive watches.
And always talked about how easy it was to make money from property.
Mom looked at me.
I whispered, "Gerald."
She nodded.
Then spoke into the phone.
"Vanessa, can you send me photographs of those documents?"
"Yes."
"And the messages Marcus sent you?"
Another pause.
"Yes."
Mom's voice softened.
"Thank you."
Vanessa began crying again.
"I'm sorry."
Mom closed her eyes.
"So am I."
The call ended.
For several seconds, neither of us moved.
Then Mom opened her laptop.
She searched the county property records.
Her fingers shook.
I stood behind her.
The website loaded slowly.
Then the property details appeared.
OWNER: NIA JOHNSON.
I exhaled.
"Still yours."
Mom nodded.
But she kept scrolling.
Then she stopped.
A pending document had been recorded.
NOTICE OF INTENDED TRANSFER.
I stared.
"What does that mean?"
Mom looked at me.
"I don't know."
I grabbed my phone.
"We need a lawyer."
She nodded.
"Yes."
I searched for an attorney specializing in property fraud.
Then remembered someone.
Mrs. Harper.
My high school guidance counselor had once helped a student's family deal with a housing dispute.
She'd mentioned a legal aid organization.
I found the number.
Mom called immediately.
A receptionist answered.
After hearing the situation, she transferred us to attorney Rachel Coleman.
Rachel listened carefully.
Then asked Mom to email the documents.
Within an hour, she called back.
Her voice was serious.
"Ms. Johnson, I believe someone may be attempting to transfer your property using a forged signature."
Mom covered her mouth.
I felt sick.
"Can they do that?" I asked.
Rachel answered carefully.
"Forgery can occur, but the document may be challenged. We need to act quickly."
Mom nodded.
"What do we do?"
"First, we'll notify the county recorder and file the appropriate objections."
I took notes.
"Then?"
"We'll preserve the original deed, financial records, and any messages from your husband."
Mom looked at me.
I nodded.
Rachel continued.
"Do not sign anything Marcus gives you."
Mom's voice hardened.
"I won't."
"And if he threatens you, contact law enforcement."
I looked toward Lily.
She sat at the kitchen table coloring.
Trying to pretend she wasn't listening.
My heart hurt.
She deserved better than this.
After the call, Mom stood.
"We need to check the filing cabinet."
I followed her into the small home office.
The cabinet stood beside the desk.
Mom opened the drawer where she kept the house documents.
Then froze.
The folder was gone.
I stared.
"What?"
She searched again.
Nothing.
The original deed.
Mortgage documents.
Insurance papers.
All missing.
Mom whispered, "He took them."
My stomach tightened.
I looked around the office.
The room seemed unchanged.
But the filing cabinet lock was scratched.
I knelt.
Someone had forced it.
"Mom."
She looked down.
I pointed at the damaged metal.
Her expression hardened.
Then she picked up her phone.
"I'm calling the police."
As she dialed, I noticed something beneath the desk.
A small yellow envelope.
It had slipped behind the wastebasket.
I picked it up.
Inside was a photocopy of a signature page.
My mother's name appeared at the bottom.
NIA JOHNSON.
But the signature looked wrong.
The letters were too neat.
My mother always made the first letter of her surname curve sharply.
This signature didn't.
I showed her.
She stared.
"That's not mine."
I nodded.
"I know."
Then I turned the page.
A date appeared near the top.
Three months earlier.
The same week Marcus had started demanding more money from me.
My stomach twisted.
He hadn't been asking because we couldn't afford groceries.
He'd been desperate to keep his scheme moving.
And suddenly, I understood why he wanted me working more hours.
He needed money.
He needed access.
And he needed Mom too exhausted to notice.
Then my phone vibrated.
A message from Marcus.
YOU THINK YOU'RE MOVING OUT? WAIT UNTIL YOU SEE WHAT HAPPENS MONDAY.
I stared at it.
Monday.
The day my apprenticeship began.
The day Marcus had threatened to make me regret standing up to him.
I showed Mom.
Her face went pale.
Then she looked at me.
"Malik, you're not going anywhere alone."
I swallowed.
"Mom—"
She shook her head.
"We're doing this together."
For the first time, I believed we might actually stop him.
May you like
But I had no idea how far Marcus was willing to go.
And Monday was getting closer.
