Chapter 7 - The Final Deed
On Wednesday morning, three days after the disastrous Mother’s Day dinner, I drove back up to Columbus in my SUV.
The weather was bright, crisp, and clear. But I wasn't going to my mother's house for dinner. I was going to the Franklin County Recorder's Office to officially record the new deed transfers and secure my complete control over Bennett Properties LLC.
I sat in a private room at the municipal building with Rebecca Sloan as the county clerk applied the official raised state seals to the property documents.
"Everything is officially recorded, Nora," Rebecca said, sliding the stamped original deeds across the wooden table to me. "You are now the one hundred percent owner of Bennett Properties LLC and the sole title holder of 472 Elmwood Drive—your mother's residence."
I picked up the heavy paper, running my thumb across the raised seal.
For eleven years, I had believed I was an orphan carrying the financial weight of an impoverished mother on my back. I had believed that hard work and endless sacrifice were the only things keeping my family from falling apart.
In reality, I was simply taking back what my father had intended for me all along.
"What about the commercial leases?" I asked Rebecca.
"The three commercial parcels outside Columbus are producing seven thousand dollars a month in steady, net-lease income," Rebecca reported, opening a fresh financial ledger. "I’ve already redirected the tenant payments directly into a new, secure corporate account under your exclusive name. The back-revenue judgment against your mother gives you a tax-loss carryforward that will protect your income for the next five years."
"And my mother's lease on the house?"
"Drafted and ready," Rebecca replied, handing me a thin blue document. "Two thousand dollars a month, deducted automatically from her monthly social security check and her remaining private pension. She stays in the house, pays her own utilities, and has zero claim to the underlying equity."
"Good," I said, putting the documents securely inside my briefcase.
I left the county building, stepped out into the bright afternoon sunlight, and drove toward 472 Elmwood Drive—the house where I had grown up, the house where my father had lived, and the house where my mother had tried to erase my future.
I pulled into the driveway, parked my car, and stepped up onto the front porch.
The front door opened slowly before I could even ring the bell. My mother stood on the threshold, wearing an old housecoat, her hair unstyled, looking smaller and more defeated than I had ever seen her in my life.
She looked at me through the screen door, her eyes searching my face for any sign of softness.
"Nora..." she whispered softly.
"I brought your lease agreement, Evelyn," I said, keeping my hands at my side, my voice calm, professional, and entirely detached. "Sign it, mail it to my lawyer's office by Friday, and you can stay here."
She stared at the folder in my hand, tears pooling in her eyes. "Nora... please... can't we just talk? I'm your mother..."
I looked at the woman standing behind the screen door—the woman who had looked me in the eye three days ago and told me she wished I had never been born, all to protect a lie she had built on my father's grave.
May you like
"My mother died eleven years ago, Evelyn," I said gently. "You're just my tenant now."
I laid the folder on the porch table, turned around, walked down the steps, and drove away.
