Chapter 5 - The Eviction Notice
By Tuesday afternoon, the rain had cleared, leaving behind a crisp, amber-tinted autumn chill that smelled of wet earth and falling leaves.
I was at my office downtown when my attorney, Marcus Vance, walked into my cubicle holding a manila folder with a satisfied smirk on his face.
“Well, Natalie,” Marcus said, tossing the folder onto my desk. “Your father and his lovely wife have retained counsel. A guy named Henderson from a mid-tier firm in Dublin.”
I looked up from my architectural drawings, spinning my chair around. “And? What did Henderson say when he saw the trust documents?”
“Henderson turned white as a ghost, dropped his pen, and asked if we could settle out of court within ten minutes of looking at the 1994 deed restrictions,” Marcus laughed, pulling up a chair. “Your father didn't just violate the trust terms by trying to add Denise to the title; he committed textbook real estate fraud by signing an affidavit claiming there were no active generational encumbrances when he applied for the $150,000 HELOC.”
“Can they go to jail?” I asked quietly.
“For the fraud? Absolutely,” Marcus replied, his tone turning professional. “Banks don't take kindly to people lying on mortgage applications about property ownership. But given that your father is seventy-one and has no prior record, the district attorney would likely offer a plea deal: full restoration of the property title to the trust, immediate nullification of the HELOC, and a forced voluntary relinquishment of the life estate within thirty days.”
I stared down at the desk, processing the immense gravity of those words.
Thirty days.
That meant my father and Denise were going to lose the house on Maple Street—the house my mother had kept clean, loved, and protected for three decades before passing away.
“What happens to my father if he loses the life estate?” I asked, a sudden pang of lingering filial guilt tugging at my chest.
“He’ll have to rent an apartment, or rely on whatever savings he and Denise have stashed away,” Marcus shrugged. “Though, given that Denise spent the last five years draining his liquid assets on luxury vacations and private school tuition for her kids, I wouldn't bet on a very comfortable retirement.”
Marcus stood up, patting my shoulder. “Think about it, Natalie. Do you want to push for full criminal prosecution and immediate eviction, or do you want to use this as leverage?”
“Let me think about it, Marcus,” I said softly. “Keep the pressure on the title company, but hold off on filing the criminal referral for forty-eight hours.”
“You’ve got forty-eight hours,” Marcus agreed, walking out of the office.
I sat alone in my cubicle for a long time, staring out the glass window at the bustling city traffic below. I thought about Sophie, sitting on the floor of my apartment, asking if Grandpa didn't like her cake. I thought about my mother, lying in her hospital bed, warning me that my father would eventually let a stranger destroy everything they had built together.
May you like
They had made their bed. Now they were going to lie in it.
Or rather, they were going to have to pack their bags and find a new one.
