Chapter 2 - THE MONEY BEHIND THE BIG HOUSE
Lauren read the first page twice.
“You told me that lien was connected to Rachel’s business.”
“It is,” Marcus said.
“No, it isn’t.”
He grabbed the folder, but Lauren took it first.
Daniel’s father, Nathan, had died in a warehouse accident when Daniel was eighteen months old. After the workers’ compensation settlement, life-insurance payment and sale of our townhouse, I had placed most of the money in a separate account for Daniel’s education and future care.
I was thirty, grieving and barely sleeping.
Marcus offered to help manage the paperwork.
He had always been the successful one—an established contractor with employees, a new house and an accountant who returned his calls. I signed a limited financial authorization allowing him to transfer money between two accounts while the settlement was finalized.
Three months later, Marcus removed $170,000.
He used it toward the down payment on the house where we now stood.
“You said Rachel agreed,” Lauren whispered.
“I said it was temporary.”
“You said the money came from your company.”
Marcus looked at me. “I paid most of it back.”
“You paid twelve thousand dollars.”
My mother finally spoke.
“Rachel, not in front of everyone.”
I turned toward her.
“Everyone was allowed to hear him humiliate Daniel. They can hear why.”
Dad closed the cooler. “We handled this privately years ago.”
No. They had contained it privately.
When I discovered the missing funds, Marcus’s construction business was already struggling. Dad begged me not to report him. Mom said a criminal investigation would destroy Lauren and their children.
We negotiated a secured repayment agreement instead.
Marcus signed a promissory note. He and Lauren signed the deed of trust against the house. Lauren had been told it secured money Marcus borrowed to help launch my company after Nathan died.
She never saw the account records.
“You signed the deed,” Marcus told her. “Don’t act surprised.”
“I signed because you said Rachel owed us.”
The sentence explained years of Lauren’s cold smiles, backhanded compliments and questions about whether I planned to find “real work.”
Marcus had made each of us believe the other was living from his generosity.
The barbecue guests began collecting purses and children. Nobody said goodbye.
Marcus pointed toward the driveway.
“Take your folder and leave my property.”
“It remains your property until the debt is enforced.”
“You won’t do that.”
He sounded certain because I had given him extensions for four years.
I had accepted late payments, incomplete payments and months of silence. Each time, my parents reminded me that foreclosure would displace Lauren and her children.
Then Marcus had looked at Daniel and said he had no future.
My phone buzzed before I reached the car.
A message from Marcus appeared.
Try to take this house and I’ll tell Daniel exactly what his father was doing before he died.
I read the sentence twice.
May you like
Nathan’s death had always been described as an industrial accident.
Marcus was suggesting there was something I had never been told.
