Chapter 2: The Sign in the Front Yard
Monday morning arrived with gray skies and a cold wind.
At 8:04 a.m., Rachel sent me a photograph.
The white real estate sign stood beside my parents' perfectly trimmed front garden.
*FOR SALE.*
The mansion looked beautiful in the photograph.
Almost innocent.
At 8:11, my mother called.
I ignored it.
At 8:12, my father called.
I ignored that too.
At 8:13, Melissa sent a voice message.
I didn't open it.
At 8:17, someone began pounding on my front door.
Claire was preparing breakfast when she stopped moving.
“Daniel?””
“I'll get it.””
I looked through the security camera.
My father stood on the porch wearing his navy cashmere coat. My mother was beside him, clutching her handbag. Melissa stood behind them, holding her phone.
Dad looked furious.
I opened the door but didn't step aside.
“What?””
My father pushed his way forward.
“What the hell is that sign doing in front of my house?””
I looked at him calmly.
“Good morning to you too.””
“Don't play games with me!””
He pulled his phone from his pocket and shoved it toward my face.
The property listing was displayed on the screen.
There were photographs of the living room, kitchen, bedrooms, swimming pool, and backyard.
The asking price was clearly visible.
Melissa pushed past Mom.
“Are you insane? You can't sell our house!””
I folded my arms.
“Can I ask you something?””
“What?”” she snapped.
“When was the last time you paid the mortgage?””
She opened her mouth.
Then closed it.
Dad stepped forward.
“This is a family matter.””
“It became a business matter when I purchased the property.””
Mom's eyes narrowed.
“You purchased it to help your father. You never intended to take it away from us.””
“I intended to let you live there while you got back on your feet.””
“And we did!”” Dad shouted.
I raised an eyebrow.
“Really?””
He looked offended.
“What is that supposed to mean?””
I pulled out my phone and opened a banking application.
For four years, I had covered the property taxes, insurance, maintenance, and mortgage obligations.
I turned the screen toward him.
“Here's the payment history.””
Dad glanced at it.
Then looked away.
“You don't need to humiliate me.””
“I haven't even started.””
Melissa laughed bitterly.
“This is unbelievable. You're throwing your own parents out because Claire got her feelings hurt?””
I looked at her.
“Did you apologize to her?””
She blinked.
“What?””
“Did you apologize for throwing your shoe?””
“Oh, here we go again.””
“Simple question.””
Melissa crossed her arms.
“She shouldn't have been sitting in my chair.””
I nodded slowly.
“Right.””
Mom stepped between us.
“Daniel, your sister is upset. You need to stop attacking her.””
I looked at my mother.
“Mom, you told my pregnant wife to sit on the floor.””
Her face changed.
“I was trying to calm everybody down.””
“No. You were telling her she deserved to be treated like that.””
Dad pointed toward the driveway.
“Listen carefully. You are not selling this property. Your mother and I have lived here for eighteen years.””
“Actually, you've lived here for eighteen years. I've owned it for four.””
The silence was immediate.
Melissa looked at Dad.
“What is he talking about?””
Dad's jaw tightened.
“Daniel, take this conversation inside.””
“No.””
“Don't embarrass me in front of your sister.””
I almost smiled.
“You brought her here. You can explain it to her.””
Mom's voice became softer.
“Daniel, please. Think about the neighbors.””
That was always her concern.
Not the woman who had been hit.
Not the unborn granddaughter.
The neighbors.
I stepped back and reached for the door.
Dad grabbed the frame.
“You can't just throw us out!””
“I'm not throwing anyone out today. The property is being sold, and the legal process will be handled properly.””
“Where are we supposed to go?””
I looked at him.
“You've had four years to think about that.””
His face reddened.
Then Melissa said something that made my stomach turn.
“Mom, don't worry. We can tell everyone Claire manipulated him. Nobody will believe he did this on his own.””
I looked at her.
“Try it.””
She lifted her chin.
“I will.””
“Good. Then make sure you tell them who owns the property.””
My father stared at me for several seconds.
Then he stepped backward.
“This isn't over.””
“No,” I said.
“It isn't.””
They left without another word.
I closed the door.
Claire was standing near the kitchen island.
She had heard everything.
“Are they gone?””
“For now.””
She placed a cup of coffee in front of me.
“Your father looked furious.””
“He's not used to hearing no.””
She looked toward the front window.
“Daniel, I don't want this to become some huge family war.””
I took her hand.
“Neither do I.””
“Then what happens if they refuse to leave?””
“We follow the law.””
She studied my face.
“Promise me something.””
“Anything.””
“Don't let them turn you into someone you aren't.””
I kissed her forehead.
“I won't.””
By lunchtime, the listing had attracted more attention than Rachel expected.
The property was in an exclusive neighborhood, close to private schools and a country club.
It was priced competitively.
Rachel called me at 1:36 p.m.
“Daniel, we have twelve inquiries already.””
“Twelve?””
“Two people want private viewings. One is relocating from Chicago. Another is a local investor.””
“Arrange the viewings.””
“There's one complication.””
I leaned back in my chair.
“What?””
“Your father has been telling people the property isn't actually for sale.””
I closed my eyes.
“Of course he has.””
“He called my office and said the listing was unauthorized.””
“What did you tell him?””
“That I represent the legal owner.””
I smiled.
“Thank you.””
She hesitated.
“Daniel, I need to ask you something. Does your father have any documentation suggesting he owns part of the property?””
“Not that I'm aware of.””
“Good. I'll have our attorney review the title documents before we proceed further.””
“Do that.””
After the call, I opened my email.
A new message had arrived from Melissa.
*Subject: You Need to Fix This Immediately.*
The message was several paragraphs long.
She accused me of betraying the family, humiliating our parents, and destroying her future.
Apparently, she had already told her friends she planned to renovate the mansion and move into the guesthouse permanently.
I read the email again.
Then I noticed the last paragraph.
Dad said you promised this house would eventually belong to me. You can't change that now.
I stared at the screen.
I had never made that promise.
Not once.
I forwarded the email to Rachel.
Then I called my father.
He answered immediately.
“Finally. Have you come to your senses?””
“No. I want to know why Melissa thinks I've promised her the house.””
Silence.
Then Dad cleared his throat.
“She's your sister. She needs security.””
“That's not an answer.””
“She has plans.””
“Then she can buy a house.””
“With what money?””
I laughed once.
“Exactly.””
Dad lowered his voice.
“Daniel, you don't understand what this family has been through.””
“I understand perfectly. I paid for the house.””
“You're being disrespectful.””
“No, Dad. I'm being factual.””
He hung up.
That evening, Claire and I sat together on the sofa.
Our daughter had been particularly active all afternoon, and Claire kept smiling whenever she felt a kick.
I rested my hand against her stomach.
“She's going to be stubborn,” Claire said.
“Where would she get that from?””
Claire laughed.
For a moment, the house felt peaceful.
Then my phone vibrated.
A message from Rachel.
*Daniel, I just received a call from someone claiming to be your father's attorney. He says they have documents concerning the property. He wants us to suspend the listing immediately.*
I sat upright.
“What documents?”” I muttered.
Claire looked at me.
“What's wrong?””
I read the message again.
Rachel sent another text.
*He says your father has evidence that could challenge the ownership transfer.*
My stomach tightened.
Four years ago, my father had signed every document required for the sale.
I remembered sitting in the attorney's office.
I remembered his signature.
I remembered handing over the money.
So what could he possibly have?
I called Rachel.
She answered immediately.
“Daniel, I don't want to alarm you, but the attorney sounded very confident.””
“What's his name?””
“Edward Collins.””
I frowned.
I knew that name.
Edward Collins had been my father's personal attorney for more than twenty years.
“Tell him to send everything through our lawyer.””
“Already done.””
I ended the call.
Claire took my hand.
“Do you think your father is lying?””
I looked at the photograph of the mansion on my phone.
“I don't know.””
Then another message appeared.
This one wasn't from Rachel.
It was from my mother.
*Your father has something you need to see. He says you won't be so confident after you read it.*
I stared at the screen.
Then I typed three words.
*Send it over.*
Her reply came almost instantly.
*No. He wants to show you in person.*
I looked at Claire.
For the first time since the shoe hit her, I felt something other than anger.
I felt uncertainty.
May you like
Because my father had never been a man who backed down without a reason.
And apparently, he believed he finally had one.
