I suggest we wait another three weeks. Once the money’s transferred, it’s useless. We’ll see his mother, and then we’ll cut all ties. Completely. We’ll tell him we need space and sell the house. My house, no less. That evening, I sat in the garage, fists clenched, eyes glued to the bright laptop screen. My mouth was dry. My heart was frozen. They weren’t just plotting a betrayal.
They had planned everything. And I was financing the operation. So I opened a blank spreadsheet. First step: hire a lawyer. Second step: discreetly recover all the assets in my name. Third step: deliver an exceptional performance for them. The lawyer I hired worked in an unassuming building on the outskirts of town. A lawyer specializing in estate law, Harold Maddox.
No flashy suits, no small talk, just a piercing gaze and irrefutable documents. I hadn’t told him everything. Not yet. Just enough to move forward. « I wish to discreetly revoke the power of attorney I signed three months ago, » I said. He frowned. « You understand that a revocation without notice could arouse suspicion? » « I’m counting on it, » I replied.
We filed the documents that same day. He advised me to make copies, keep them with a financial backup, and start protecting my personal assets: bank accounts, brokerage accounts, and, most importantly, the deed to the house. They thought everything was safe, that I was blind. But by Friday, all the important assets had been transferred.
All I left behind were empty shells, the ones they circled like vultures. Then came the next step: the bait. That weekend, I walked into the living room with a big smile. « Guess what, Claire? I just got a raise. A big raise. » Her eyes twinkled. Jenna clapped. Her mother said, « I knew you could do it. » I played along. Fancy dinners, a new suit, and even a thank-you bracelet for Claire.
They thought they had time to pull off their plan. They thought they would win. But what they didn’t know was that I was already in control. And they were just reciting lines in a play I was directing. All that was missing was the final act to make it unforgettable. Two days before their plans changed, I overheard Clare on the phone in the garden.
“It’ll happen next week,” she murmured. “He doesn’t know a thing. I’ve already prepared the signature. His name will be crossed off the deed before he even has time to blink.” I stayed inside, sipping my coffee, watching her through the window as if she were rehearsing a role. Her whole life with me, a con. A long charade she was proud of.
That evening, I emailed Harold a special file: all the voice recordings, the cloud videos, the updated power of attorney, and the forged signature Clare thought I hadn’t seen her practice. « Prepare the final file, » I wrote. « Emergency court application. I want everything ready by Tuesday. » Harold replied calmly, « It will be magnificent. »
I didn’t sleep a wink all night. The next morning, I invited them all over for dinner. « Let’s celebrate! » I said. « The bonus has arrived! » They fell for it. Marketing and greed. I grilled steaks, bought wine, and even wore the bracelet Clare had given me six months earlier. They joked, laughed, and toasted me, and I was still smiling until Jenna clinked glasses and said to Clare, « Here’s the real future owner of this house! »
They all laughed. I stood up, raised my glass in turn, and said, « Let’s toast again next Tuesday. I’ll have something special for you. » They applauded. They suspected nothing. But Tuesday would be the day everything they had built on lies would crumble. Tuesday arrived. I was wearing a simple gray shirt. No watch, no cologne, just calm.
Clare came downstairs in a red dress. Jenna was already pouring mimosas. Her mother was on the phone, boasting that this was the last week she’d be living with someone else. They thought it was a victory. At precisely 9:00 a.m., the doorbell rang. Clare looked puzzled. I opened the door. Harold came in carrying a thick brown paper folder. Behind him was a bailiff.
Daniel Harold nodded. Ready? I turned to them. Ladies, please sit down. You won’t want to miss this. Clare sneered. What’s this about? The bailiff unfolded a document. Clareire Whitman, you are hereby issued a summons for attempted real estate fraud and forgery. Jenna stood up.
« What the hell is this? » Harold managed a small smile. « You’ll also notice that Mr. Brooks has requested the immediate freezing of assets in the joint accounts pending a fraud investigation. » His mother screamed. « You can’t do this! » I leaned forward. « Oh, but you can. While you were plotting to remove me, I got everything back. You own nothing. This house? What? The accounts? What? The bracelet on your wrist? Bought with my card. »
See more on the next page
Advertisement
