Chapter 2 - The Bills They Thought Were Theirs
I was still holding the phone when Claire asked, “What did he try to transfer?”
“The house.”
She stared at me.
“Your parents’ house?”
“My house.”
That distinction suddenly mattered more than it ever had.
Two hours later, we were sitting inside attorney Martin Cole’s office in downtown Charlotte.
I had changed out of my wedding clothes.
Claire still wore the simple cream dress she had planned for our first married morning.
Neither of us had expected to spend it examining what looked like forged legal documents.
Martin pushed a folder across the conference table.
“I didn’t record anything yesterday because I had concerns.”
I opened it.
At the top of the first page:
QUITCLAIM DEED.
Grantor: Ethan Hayes.
Grantee: Richard Hayes and Margaret Hayes.
My name appeared at the bottom.
My signature appeared beneath it.
It was good.
Very good.
But it wasn’t mine.
Claire leaned closer.
“That’s fake.”
“Yes.”
Martin nodded.
“That was my concern.”
“Dad brought this yesterday?”
“About four in the afternoon.”
My wedding ceremony had begun at five-thirty.
Claire looked at me.
“He went to an attorney’s office with a fake deed less than two hours before your wedding?”
Martin held up a hand.
“He didn’t know I would be here personally. He asked the receptionist to have the document recorded.”
“Why didn’t she?”
“Because the notary acknowledgment looked wrong.”
He pointed to the seal.
“The commission number didn’t match the name.”
I stared at it.
“Did Dad know?”
“I don’t know.”
“What did he say?”
“That you had decided to gift the property to your parents as a wedding gesture.”
Claire actually laughed.
There was no humor in it.
“A wedding gesture?”
Martin looked uncomfortable.
“He claimed you wanted to make sure they were financially secure.”
I leaned back.
Financially secure.
I had spent six years making them financially secure.
Apparently that had not been enough.
Martin continued.
“I called the notary this morning. She says she never witnessed this signature.”
“Then it’s forged.”
“Almost certainly.”
“Can we stop it?”
“It was never filed.”
Relief moved through me.
Then disappeared when Martin added, “But that isn’t the only issue.”
He opened a second folder.
A home equity line application.
My stomach dropped.
“How much?”
“One hundred eighty thousand.”
Claire whispered, “Jesus.”
The application used the same forged signature.
My income.
My social security number.
My employment information.
Even a copy of my driver’s license.
I looked at Martin.
“Where did this come from?”
“A lender contacted my office because they found my name on the original closing documents.”
I felt cold.
“They were borrowing against my house.”
“They were trying to.”
Claire’s fingers closed around mine.
I thought about every bill I had paid.
Every time Dad had said money was tight.
Every time Mom asked me to cover property taxes because “Daniel was dealing with so much.”
I thought about the wedding.
Forty thousand dollars.
Had they borrowed it?
Had I unknowingly financed my brother’s celebration?
Martin must have seen the question in my face.
“We need a full review.”
“I want everything locked down.”
“I already recommend a credit freeze.”
“Do it.”
Claire looked at me.
“You’re not going to call them?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Martin nodded.
“If they contact you, don’t discuss the documents yet.”
My phone buzzed.
Mom.
Then Dad.
Then Daniel.
I turned it off.
For the next four hours, we went through six years of financial history.
It was worse than I expected.
The mortgage payment came from my account every month.
No surprise.
Property taxes.
Insurance.
Utilities.
No surprise.
Then Martin’s assistant found payments from a household credit card I had added Mom to for emergencies.
Designer furniture.
Golf club dues.
Airfare.
Restaurant charges.
A luxury hotel in Charleston.
None of it catastrophic individually.
Together, nearly $62,000 over four years.
Claire stared at the total.
“They treated you like a bank.”
I shook my head.
“No.”
She looked at me.
“A bank sends statements.”
That almost made me laugh.
Almost.
At three-thirty, we drove to my parents’ house.
Not because I wanted a confrontation.
Because several original property documents were stored in a safe in the study.
I had placed them there years earlier because Dad insisted his office was secure.
Now I no longer trusted anything in that room.
When we pulled into the driveway, Dad was waiting outside.
He marched toward my car before I had even turned off the engine.
“What the hell did you do?”
I got out calmly.
Claire stayed beside me.
“Good afternoon.”
“Don’t play games.”
Dad pointed toward the garage.
“You shut us out of the car.”
“I ended your access to a vehicle owned by my company.”
“You gave me that car.”
“No. I let you use it.”
His face reddened.
Mom appeared in the doorway.
“Ethan, what is happening?”
“I’m collecting some documents.”
“You can’t just walk in here.”
I looked at her.
“I own the house.”
Silence.
Dad stepped closer.
“You said this was our home.”
“It is your home.”
“Then act like it.”
“I have.”
“For six years.”
That stopped him.
Mom crossed her arms.
“So this is about last night.”
“No.”
“Oh, please.”
She looked at Claire.
“Did she put you up to this?”
Claire’s expression didn’t change.
I answered before she could.
“Don’t involve my wife.”
Mom’s mouth opened slightly.
My wife.
It was the first time I had used those words with her.
They felt good.
Dad pointed a finger at me.
“You’re throwing a tantrum because we helped your brother.”
“I’m not discussing Daniel.”
“You’ve always been jealous of him.”
I almost admired the confidence it took to say that while standing inside a house I paid for.
“Where are the property documents?”
Dad’s eyes shifted.
Tiny movement.
But I saw it.
“Why?”
“Because they belong to me.”
“They’re safe.”
“Where?”
“In the study.”
I walked past him.
Mom followed.
“Ethan, you’re being ridiculous.”
The safe was behind a framed painting.
I entered the code.
Error.
I tried again.
Error.
I stared at the keypad.
Dad stood in the doorway.
“You changed it.”
“It’s my safe.”
“No.”
I turned.
“It’s mine.”
He folded his arms.
“You put it in my house.”
There it was again.
His house.
My money.
His house.
My car.
His car.
My accounts.
His security.
I looked at him.
“Open it.”
“No.”
Claire stepped into the hallway.
“Ethan.”
Her tone made me look at her.
She was holding a piece of mail.
“What?”
“This was on the console table.”
She handed it to me.
The envelope was addressed to Richard Hayes.
From a financial institution I recognized.
I looked at Dad.
His face changed.
Barely.
But enough.
The account name printed through the envelope window made my chest tighten.
HAYES FAMILY HOLDINGS LLC.
I had never heard of it.
Dad reached for the envelope.
“That’s private.”
I pulled it back.
“You used my address.”
“It’s my mail.”
“Then tell me what Hayes Family Holdings is.”
Mom looked at Dad.
Not me.
That was when I knew she didn’t know either.
Dad’s voice hardened.
“Leave.”
I stared at him.
“Open the safe.”
“Get out.”
“Richard,” Mom whispered.
He turned on her.
“Not now.”
Claire touched my arm.
I could have forced the issue.
I could have called a locksmith.
I could have reminded Dad again that legally, he had no authority to remove me from property I owned.
Instead, I nodded.
“Fine.”
Dad looked surprised.
I walked toward the door.
Then stopped.
“By five o’clock tomorrow, the Lexus will be collected.”
His face went still.
“The utilities will move to your name at the end of the month.”
Mom gasped.
“What?”
“The household card has been canceled.”
Dad stepped forward.
“You can’t do that.”
“I already did.”
“What are we supposed to do?”
It was such a strange question that I genuinely didn’t know how to answer.
Finally, I said, “Pay your bills.”
Mom stared at me as though I had insulted her.
Outside, Claire and I reached the car.
Before I opened the door, Mom called after me.
“Your brother would never treat us this way.”
I turned.
Daniel.
Always Daniel.
I smiled once.
“Then call him.”
We drove away.
Three blocks later, Claire’s phone rang.
Unknown number.
She answered through the car speakers.
“Hello?”
A woman spoke.
“Is this Claire Hayes?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Natalie Hayes.”
Daniel’s wife.
Claire looked at me.
Natalie’s voice trembled.
“I need to speak to Ethan.”
I took the phone.
“Natalie?”
“Ethan, I found something.”
“What?”
“Daniel left his laptop open.”
A pause.
“He’s been moving money for your father.”
My grip tightened on the steering wheel.
“How much?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“What account?”
Another pause.
Then she said the name.
“Hayes Family Holdings.”
Claire turned toward me.
Natalie began to cry.
“And Ethan?”
“Yes?”
“I found your wedding expenses.”
I swallowed.
“What about them?”
“They’re in the same ledger as Daniel’s.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“I know.”
Her breath shook.
“Because according to this file, your parents didn’t spend forty thousand dollars on Daniel’s wedding.”
I slowed the car.
“Then who did?”
Natalie whispered the answer.
“You did.”
May you like
Before I could ask how, the call disconnected.
And when I tried her number again, somebody else answered Daniel’s phone.
