Chapter 4
I drove to my mother's house faster than I ever had before.
Every traffic light felt like a personal insult.
Every slow-moving car made my hands tighten around the steering wheel.
All I could hear was Mom's frightened voice.
"He says I don't own my home anymore."
I called her again.
No answer.
I tried twice more.
Nothing.
By the time I turned onto her street, my heart was hammering.
Her little blue house stood near the end of the block.
A black SUV was parked at the curb.
A man in a navy suit stood on her porch.
My mother was beside the front door.
Crying.
I pulled into the driveway and jumped out.
"Mom!"
She turned.
"Marcus!"
I hurried to her and put an arm around her shoulders.
"Are you okay?"
She nodded, but her hands wouldn't stop shaking.
The man stepped toward me.
"Sir, I'm here on behalf of GBC Holdings."
I faced him.
"Who are you?"
"Leon Price. I'm an independent property representative."
"Show me your identification."
He produced a business card.
I took a picture of it.
Then I pointed toward my mother.
"Why are you telling a seventy-two-year-old woman she has to leave her home?"
He looked uncomfortable.
"I'm delivering a notice concerning an ownership dispute."
"Who hired you?"
"GBC Holdings."
"That's Darren Mitchell's company?"
He glanced at his paperwork.
"Mr. Mitchell is listed as the managing member."
I felt a wave of anger.
"Let me see the documents."
He hesitated.
Then he handed me a copy.
The first page claimed my mother had granted certain property rights to GBC Holdings in exchange for a financial consideration.
The amount listed was sixty thousand dollars.
My mother had never received sixty thousand dollars.
I knew that.
She knew that.
And judging from her expression, Leon was starting to suspect it too.
"Mrs. Carter," he asked gently, "did you sign a property agreement?"
"No, sir."
"Did you receive any payment?"
"Not a penny."
Leon stepped back.
He looked at me.
"I wasn't told the transaction was disputed."
"Well, now you know."
He gathered his papers.
"I'll report this to my office. I won't be making any further demands today."
I recorded his name and contact information.
Then I watched him drive away.
Mom sank onto the porch chair.
"Marcus, what is happening to us?"
I knelt beside her.
"I think Nia and Darren have been trying to steal from you."
She covered her mouth.
"No."
"I wish I were wrong."
Tears rolled down her cheeks.
"I treated that girl like my daughter."
I held her hand.
"I know."
"I prayed for your marriage. I gave you both everything I could."
Her voice broke.
"Why would she hurt me?"
I had no answer.
Because greed rarely comes with an explanation that satisfies the people it destroys.
I helped Mom inside.
Then I called Angela.
She told me not to assume the notice had legal force.
She needed to examine the underlying documents and the status of the recorded instrument.
I sent photographs of every page.
Within an hour, she had contacted a property-litigation colleague and arranged for us to file a formal report.
Mom sat quietly at the kitchen table.
I made her tea.
She didn't drink it.
Instead, she stared at a framed photograph hanging above the counter.
It showed me at eighteen, wearing my graduation gown.
My father had died when I was nine.
From that day forward, Mom had carried our entire world on her shoulders.
She cleaned offices at night.
Worked at a school cafeteria during the day.
And somehow still came to every important event in my life.
I remembered finding her asleep at the kitchen table, surrounded by unpaid bills.
I remembered pretending I wasn't hungry because I knew there wasn't enough food.
I remembered her wearing the same winter coat for eight years.
And now someone wanted to take the one place she had always called her own.
I wasn't going to let that happen.
My phone rang.
Nia.
I answered.
"Marcus, where are you?"
"At Mom's."
A pause.
"Why?"
"Someone came here claiming Darren's company owns rights to her property."
Silence.
Then Nia said, "You don't understand."
My stomach dropped.
"You knew."
"Marcus, please."
"You knew someone was coming to threaten my mother."
"It wasn't supposed to happen like that."
I stood so quickly my chair scraped the floor.
"What was supposed to happen?"
She began crying.
"Darren told me everything was temporary."
"Temporary?"
"He said Mom would keep living there. He only needed the property paperwork to secure financing."
I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
"You used my mother's home as collateral without her consent?"
"She wasn't going to lose anything!"
"Someone just told her to leave!"
Nia sobbed.
"I didn't know he would go that far."
I walked into the hallway so Mom wouldn't hear everything.
"Did you forge her signature?"
"No."
"Then who did?"
Nia stopped crying.
That silence told me more than words could have.
"Where is Darren?" I asked.
"I don't know."
"Nia."
"I swear, Marcus. He's not answering me either."
I leaned against the wall.
"How much money did he get?"
She whispered, "I don't know exactly."
"How much?"
"More than two hundred thousand."
I closed my eyes.
Two hundred thousand dollars.
Borrowed against properties belonging to people who didn't know they were involved.
Nia continued.
"He promised he'd repay everything after the development deal closed."
"What development deal?"
She didn't answer.
"Nia?"
"There wasn't one."
I felt cold all over.
"What?"
"He lied, Marcus. He showed me investor documents, but I found out the project wasn't real."
I stared down the hallway at my mother.
"Then where did the money go?"
Nia began sobbing again.
"I think Darren took it."
Before I could answer, another call came through.
Tasha.
I put Nia on hold.
"Hello?"
"Marcus, it's me."
"Tasha, what's wrong?"
"I just found something in the old company files."
"What?"
"Your wife's name is on the account that received the latest transfer."
My throat tightened.
"How much?"
"One hundred and twelve thousand dollars."
I slowly lowered myself onto the hallway bench.
Tasha continued.
"And Marcus?"
"Yes?"
"The transfer happened this morning."
I looked at the clock.
It had been less than an hour since Nia called me crying.
And now I had to ask myself a question I desperately didn't want to answer.
May you like
Was my wife another victim of Darren's lies?
Or had she been lying to me the entire time?
