Chapter 3 - THE APPRAISER WHO WASN’T FROM THE INSURANCE COMPANY
My attorney’s name was Rachel Kim.
She answered my call at 9:18 that night.
I told her what happened.
She asked two questions before discussing the deed.
“Are you physically safe?”
“Yes.”
“Do you need medical attention?”
“No.”
The sauce had left redness but no burns.
My shoulder hurt from hitting the floor.
I documented it anyway.
Then I sent Rachel photographs of the document.
She called back.
“This appears to be a draft quitclaim deed.”
“Can they transfer the condo?”
“Not without valid execution from the current owner.”
“Me.”
“Yes.”
“Has anything been filed?”
“I'll verify.”
The next morning, Cook County records showed no transfer.
Relief.
Then Rachel asked whether I had enrolled in the county’s property-fraud alert system.
I hadn't.
We did.
She also contacted the title company named in the document.
They had opened a preliminary file.
Not a completed closing.
Not a recorded deed.
A file.
At someone’s request.
“Whose?”
“They won't tell us everything without proper authorization, but your name is involved, so we can obtain relevant material through the appropriate process.”
That sentence became my introduction to reality.
Nothing moved as quickly as betrayal felt.
But paper left tracks.
I changed the building access code.
Not to lock Gabriel out unlawfully.
He lived with me and we were married.
Rachel warned me not to treat ownership like permission to invent eviction procedures.
Instead, Gabriel agreed through counsel to stay temporarily at Patricia’s townhouse while we sorted out the confrontation.
Maybe because he was ashamed.
Maybe because he knew I had the deed photograph.
Patricia left with him.
Before going, she said:
“You are making a mistake that will affect everyone.”
I answered:
“So far, the only mistake I can prove is marrying into a family that drafts deeds behind my back.”
She went white.
Good.
But the stranger discovery came that afternoon.
My building manager called.
“Ms. Mercer, is everything okay with the appraisal?”
“What appraisal?”
A man had entered the unit twelve days earlier.
Gabriel had been home.
The man said he was there for an insurance valuation.
He photographed rooms.
Measured square footage.
Viewed the terrace.
I remembered.
I had come home halfway through.
Gabriel told me our homeowners insurer wanted updated replacement-cost information.
I believed him.
The building log had the visitor’s company.
Lakefront Valuation Services.
Rachel called them.
With my written authorization, they confirmed the assignment.
Client:
Hudson Republic Bank.
Purpose:
Collateral valuation.
Estimated market value:
$2.72 million.
My mortgage balance:
About $610,000.
More than two million dollars in equity.
I sat in Rachel’s office staring at the report.
“They had my home appraised for a loan.”
“Someone did.”
“Gabriel.”
“Likely. We verify.”
The bank had not placed a lien.
Again, important.
But the appraisal existed because someone wanted to know what my condo could support.
Then Rachel received the title company’s initial file.
The proposed transfer was not from me to Gabriel.
It was from me directly to Patricia.
For nominal consideration.
One dollar.
I laughed when I saw it.
Maybe because crying felt repetitive.
“What possible explanation is there for that?”
Rachel looked at the attached cover letter.
“Apparently Patricia was expected to contribute the condo to something called Mercer Family Asset Holdings.”
I knew that company.
It belonged to Patricia.
“What happens then?”
“Unknown.”
Then Rachel turned another page.
A preliminary loan worksheet.
Proposed credit facility:
$1.35 million.
Security package included:
My condo.
Patricia’s investment account.
A commercial property in Evanston.
Borrower:
Mercer Family Asset Holdings.
I looked at Rachel.
“What does Patricia need $1.35 million for?”
Rachel said:
“That is the right question.”
I thought it was.
It wasn't.
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The better question was:
Why had Gabriel told Patricia I already agreed to provide it?
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