Chapter 3 - The Deception Unraveled
The dining room descended into absolute chaos.
"You crazy bitch!" Vanessa shrieked, lunging at me with her acrylic nails raised toward my face.
Before she could touch me, I caught her wrist mid-air with a tight, medical-grade grip, twisting it just enough to force her to drop to her knees beside the table.
"Don't ever lay a hand on me," I whispered into her ear, my voice icy calm. "And if you ever look at my mother again, a slap will be the least of your concerns."
I shoved her back onto the floor. She scrambled up, holding her reddened wrist, tears of humiliation and rage spilling down her cheeks.
"Arthur! Sarah! Don't listen to her!" Vanessa sobbed, turning frantically toward her high-society guests. "She’s lying! She edited that audio! She’s mentally unstable!"
Arthur Sterling stood up slowly, pulling his silk napkin from his collar and tossing it onto his plate. His face was a mask of cold disgust. "We are leaving, Brandon."
"Arthur, wait! Please!" Brandon begged, springing up from his chair, grabbing Arthur’s arm. "We have the investment paperwork ready for the development project! We can sign it tonight!"
"Touch me again, Brandon, and I’ll have my security team step inside," Arthur said, shaking Brandon’s hand off like he was removing trash. "I don't do business with domestic abusers who steal from their own family. And frankly, if the press gets wind of this, your name in this city is finished."
"Arthur, please!" Evelyn wailed, standing up to chase after them. "It's a misunderstanding!"
Within two minutes, all six guests had rushed out of the front door, their expensive sports cars roaring down the driveway, leaving the front door wide open to the cool night air.
The house fell completely silent again, save for the sound of heavy breathing.
Vanessa turned on Brandon like a rabid animal. "You coward! You just let her ruin everything! Our investment deal with Sterling was worth two million dollars!"
"Shut up, Vanessa!" Brandon screamed back, slamming his fist onto the mahogany table so hard a wine glass overturned, spilling dark red wine across the floor. "Just shut the hell up!"
He turned his bloodshot eyes toward me. "Are you happy now, Chloe?! You came back here after six years and destroyed my entire life in twenty minutes!"
"I destroyed your life?" I chuckled dryly, pulling the thick stack of financial documents out of my handbag and tossing them onto the gravy-stained table. "No, Brandon. You destroyed your own life the moment you committed federal loan fraud."
Brandon’s eyes fell onto the legal papers. He froze.
Vanessa walked over, her brow furrows as she picked up the top document. "What is this?"
"That," I announced, leaning back against the doorframe, "is the delinquent property tax notice for fourteen thousand dollars. Beside it is the equity loan contract for one hundred and fifty thousand dollars secured against this house. And beneath that is the forged quitclaim deed bearing our mother's fake signature."
Vanessa’s face went completely blank. "How... how did you get into the safe?"
"You left it unlocked, you idiot," I said flatly. "Just like you left my mother sleeping on a cot beside the washing machine while you lived like royalty on money you didn't earn."
"Chloe, listen to me," Brandon stammered, stepping toward me, his hands raised in a pleading gesture. "Things got out of hand, okay? The business went under two years ago. We were going to pay the taxes back as soon as the Sterling deal went through! I swear to God! I was going to pay off the equity loan next month!"
"With what money, Brandon?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "The money you don't have? The money you've been leeching off me while I worked 80-hour work weeks in trauma units overseas?"
"We are family!" Brandon yelled, tears of self-pity welling in his eyes. "You're rich, Chloe! You have hundreds of thousands of dollars in savings! What does this house matter to you?!"
"This house doesn't matter to me because of its price, Brandon," I said softly, my voice filled with a deep, sorrowful disappointment. "It matters to me because Dad built the plans for it before he died. It matters because it was supposed to be a safe haven for Mom."
I pulled my tablet out of my bag, opened a file, and turned the screen toward them.
"What is that?" Vanessa asked nervously.
"That is the original, irrevocable land title registered with the Cook County Deed Office six years ago," I replied. "Paid in full, in cash, under the legal name of Chloe Vance. My mother never owned this house, Brandon. I owned it. She only held a lifetime occupancy trust."
May you like
Brandon’s mouth dropped open. "What... what are you saying?"
"I'm saying," I smiled coldly, "that the quitclaim deed you forged eleven months ago transferred a property my mother didn't legally own. Which means your $150,000 equity loan is completely invalid, the private lender is going to sue you for bank fraud, and you have committed a federal felony."
