Chapter 3
The photograph made my blood run cold.
My mother's address.
Not mine.
Hers.
I enlarged the image until the words became clear.
Evelyn Carter.
Property owner.
Estimated equity: $146,000.
My mother had spent thirty-five years paying off that little house.
It wasn't fancy.
The paint was fading.
The porch needed repairs.
But it was hers.
And now her home was sitting on my wife's brother's investment paperwork.
I called the unknown number.
Someone answered after the third ring.
"Hello?"
A woman's voice.
Young.
Nervous.
"Who is this?" I asked.
"My name is Tasha Reed."
"How did you get my number?"
"I worked for Darren at Golden Bridge."
"Why are you sending me these pictures?"
"Because I couldn't live with myself if I stayed quiet."
I walked into my office and closed the door.
"Tell me everything."
Tasha hesitated.
"I was Darren's administrative assistant for eleven months. At first, I thought he was running a legitimate investment company."
"And now?"
"Now I know he was using people's properties to raise money he couldn't repay."
I sat down.
"Are you saying he was committing fraud?"
"I'm saying I saw documents that should never have existed."
I looked at the picture again.
"What does my mother's house have to do with this?"
Tasha took a shaky breath.
"Darren has been collecting information about older homeowners."
"Why?"
"Because some of them have paid-off properties. He said they were easier targets."
The room seemed to shrink.
"Targets for what?"
"Loans. Sometimes investments. Sometimes outright property transfers disguised as estate-planning documents."
My stomach turned.
"How did he get Mom's information?"
There was silence.
Then Tasha answered.
"Nia."
I closed my eyes.
"Are you sure?"
"I heard her tell him your mother wouldn't understand the paperwork."
My hand tightened around the phone.
"Did they submit anything?"
"I don't know. I left before the latest applications were finished."
"Why did you leave?"
Her voice broke.
"Because they tried to make me witness a signature I knew wasn't real."
I stood.
"On whose document?"
"Evelyn Carter's."
I nearly dropped the phone.
Tasha continued quickly.
"I refused. Darren screamed at me. The next morning, I was fired."
I asked her to send whatever evidence she still had.
She agreed.
But before hanging up, she said something that frightened me more than everything else.
"Marcus, don't confront them alone. Darren doesn't handle being challenged very well."
I promised to be careful.
Then I called my mother.
She answered cheerfully.
"Baby, I just paid the electric bill online."
"Good, Mom."
"Thank you again."
"Mom, I need to ask you something important."
Her voice changed.
"What happened?"
"Has Nia asked you to sign any paperwork recently?"
Silence.
"Mom?"
"Well..."
My heart began pounding.
"Tell me."
"She brought some papers over last Thursday."
"What kind of papers?"
"She said they were about reducing my property taxes."
I gripped the edge of my desk.
"Did you sign them?"
"She asked me to. But the print was so small, and I didn't have my reading glasses."
"Then what happened?"
"I told her I'd like you to look at them first."
I finally breathed.
"Did she leave the papers?"
"No. She seemed upset and took them home."
"Did Darren come with her?"
My mother gasped softly.
"How did you know?"
I closed my eyes.
"Mom, listen carefully. Do not sign anything Nia or Darren brings you."
"Marcus, you're frightening me."
"I'm sorry."
"What's going on?"
I couldn't hide it anymore.
"I think they're trying to use your house to get money."
For several seconds, I heard nothing.
Then Mom whispered, "My house?"
"Yes."
"But why would Nia do that?"
I didn't have an answer.
Not one that would make sense to a woman who had welcomed Nia into our family.
"Please lock your doors tonight," I said.
"Baby, should I call the police?"
"Not yet. I need to collect the documents first."
After hanging up, I contacted my attorney, Angela Brooks.
Angela had handled contracts for my construction company for years.
She was brilliant, practical, and not easily shaken.
But when I explained everything, she interrupted me.
"Marcus, stop."
"What?"
"You're describing suspected identity theft, mortgage fraud, and potentially an attempt to defraud an elderly homeowner."
"I know."
"No, I need you to understand how serious this is."
I swallowed.
"What do we do?"
"First, preserve every message and document. Second, put fraud alerts on your credit. Third, we need your mother's property records checked immediately."
I sent her the photograph.
She called back twenty minutes later.
"Marcus, there's something you need to see."
She had searched the county's public property records.
A document had been submitted three days earlier.
It claimed that Evelyn Carter had authorized a company called GBC Holdings to act on her behalf in certain property transactions.
The document carried a signature resembling my mother's.
And a notary stamp.
I felt sick.
"She didn't sign that."
"Then we need to challenge it immediately."
"Can it be used to take her house?"
"Not automatically. But someone may try to rely on it to conduct transactions."
I stood and grabbed my keys.
"I'm going to Mom's."
"Marcus, listen. Don't approach Darren. Let me coordinate the appropriate reports."
I promised.
But I had barely reached my car when my mother called.
Her voice was shaking.
"Marcus?"
"Mom, what's wrong?"
"There's a man at my front door."
"What man?"
"He says he's here from a property company."
My heart stopped.
"What does he want?"
"He says I have to leave my house."
I froze.
"What?"
"He has papers, Marcus. He says the property has been transferred."
Behind her, I heard a man's voice.
"Mrs. Carter, you've been given official notice."
Mom began crying.
"Baby, he says I don't own my home anymore."
May you like
I was already starting my engine.
And for the first time in my life, I was terrified I might reach my mother too late.
