Chapter 2 - The Claim Filed Yesterday
I thought Claire had made a mistake.
Jenna did not.
That was how I knew.
“What document?” I asked.
Claire removed three pages from her folder.
“A declaration of beneficial ownership.”
Jenna immediately stepped forward.
“That’s private.”
I almost laughed.
“Private?”
She had spent three days treating my house as hers, but now property records were private.
Claire handed me the papers.
The declaration claimed that Jenna Mercer Caldwell had invested $235,000 into the Malibu cottage during renovations and therefore held an equitable interest.
Below the statement was a signature.
Mine.
Except I had never signed it.
Mark moved beside her.
“This is getting ridiculous.”
I looked at him.
“You knew?”
“No.”
Too fast.
Dad stared at the document.
Mom said nothing.
That interested me more.
“Mom?”
She looked at the broken sailboat instead of me.
“Your sister helped you more than you admit.”
“With what?”
“When your marriage fell apart.”
My divorce had happened seven years earlier.
Jenna sent flowers.
Mom brought casseroles.
Dad watched the kids twice.
Nobody contributed hundreds of thousands of dollars.
Claire pointed to the notarization.
“It was filed yesterday afternoon.”
“By whom?”
“A local attorney named Stephen Vale.”
Jenna finally spoke.
“He represents us.”
Us.
There it was.
“Why do you need an attorney for a house you don’t own?”
Mark stepped in.
“Because you’ve been threatening to sell the only place where this family can be together.”
“I decided to sell yesterday.”
Jenna’s eyes shifted.
Claire noticed.
“So how did you retain counsel before Dr. Mercer told you?”
Silence.
One of the prospective buyers had reached the porch.
Claire politely asked them to wait outside.
Then Dad said:
“Maybe everybody should calm down.”
“No.”
For once, the word came easily.
Jenna grabbed the papers from my hand.
“You’re being emotional because of a toy.”
Eli heard her.
His face changed.
I stepped between them.
“This stopped being about the boat when you told my children they weren’t real family.”
Mom rolled her eyes.
“Daryl, Jenna didn’t mean—”
“Yes, she did.”
Then Zoe spoke.
Quietly.
“Aunt Jenna said we don’t belong because Mom left Daddy.”
The room went silent.
I turned toward her.
“When did she say that?”
Zoe looked frightened.
“Last night.”
I hadn’t been at the cottage last night.
I had been finishing a fourteen-hour surgical shift.
Jenna had arrived early.
She had been alone with my children.
“What else did she say?”
Zoe looked down.
“That this house would belong to her soon.”
Jenna snapped:
“She’s six!”
I stared at my sister.
“Exactly.”
Claire’s phone rang.
She answered, listened, then slowly looked toward me.
“What?”
“The title company just found a second filing.”
My stomach tightened.
“What kind?”
“A loan.”
I almost laughed again.
“Against whose property?”
Claire’s answer made Mark stop breathing.
“Yours.”
“How much?”
“Six hundred thousand dollars.”
I looked at Jenna.
She looked at Mark.
And suddenly my parents weren’t watching me anymore.
They were watching their daughter.
Claire lowered her voice.
“The lender says the application was supported by a family trust.”
“What family trust?”
Mom’s wineglass slipped from her hand.
May you like
It shattered on the floor.
That was when I knew the fraud hadn’t started with Jenna.
