Chapter 6 - THE HOUSE THAT WASN’T HERS
Claire watched the security feed from Maya’s car.
Julian spoke briefly to the locksmith.
Then handed him a document.
The locksmith studied it.
Claire zoomed in.
“What is he showing him?”
Maya shook her head.
“Probably something claiming ownership or legal authority.”
“That’s my house.”
“Legally?”
Claire looked at her.
“What does that mean?”
“Whose name is on the deed?”
“Mine and Julian’s.”
“You sure?”
Claire went silent.
The house had been purchased seven years earlier.
Julian handled closing.
Claire had been in Seattle that week.
Maya was already typing.
Thirty seconds later, she stopped.
“Oh, hell.”
“What?”
Maya turned the screen.
The deed had been amended eight months earlier.
Claire’s name was gone.
“Impossible.”
“Quitclaim deed.”
“I never signed that.”
“I know.”
Claire stared at her own forged signature again.
For months, they had been stripping pieces of her life away while she made dinner reservations and remembered birthdays.
Julian entered the house.
Claire called the police.
Then she stopped herself.
If Julian showed officers a deed stating the house was his, who would they believe?
Especially with a mental incompetency petition already filed.
Maya understood.
“We need to beat them with documents, not emotion.”
Claire hated that she was right.
They drove to Maya’s office.
At 11:46 p.m., Maya’s forensic team began copying the files Claire had saved.
Claire sat at a conference table with cold coffee.
Her phone filled with messages.
Her mother.
Her father.
Brooke.
Julian.
She ignored all of them until one arrived from Ethan.
Aunt Claire, Mom is crying. Did I do something?
Claire’s chest cracked.
None of this was his fault.
She typed slowly.
No, sweetheart. You did nothing wrong. I love you. Adults are dealing with adult problems.
Three dots appeared.
Uncle Julian is my dad, isn’t he?
Claire stared at the screen.
Brooke had told him.
Or he had overheard.
Claire closed her eyes.
Maya touched her shoulder.
“You okay?”
“No.”
It was the first completely honest word Claire had spoken all night.
At 12:20, Maya’s investigator found something else.
Julian’s private holding company had purchased a condominium eighteen months earlier.
Claire recognized the address.
Brooke had moved there fourteen months ago.
She told Claire she was renting.
Julian owned it.
Maya placed photos on the screen.
Building entries.
Parking logs.
Julian visited constantly.
Tuesday afternoons.
Thursday mornings.
Weekends Claire traveled.
“This isn’t a twelve-year-old mistake,” Claire said.
“No.”
“It never stopped.”
“No.”
Claire stood and walked to the window.
Chicago glittered below.
She had spent years feeling guilty about working too much.
Julian always told her Brooke needed help.
Brooke was lonely.
Ethan needed a male role model.
So Claire encouraged Julian to attend games and school events.
She had practically delivered him to her sister.
Maya’s phone rang.
She answered.
Listened.
Then slowly looked at Claire.
“What?”
Maya hung up.
“My investigator just spoke with the notary whose stamp is on your share transfer.”
“And?”
“He remembers Julian.”
Claire leaned forward.
“Good.”
Maya didn’t smile.
“He remembers someone else too.”
“Brooke?”
“No.”
“Dad?”
“No.”
Claire felt something cold move through her.
“Who?”
May you like
Maya turned the photograph of the notarized page toward her.
“Your mother.”
