Chapter 8: The Debt Behind the Door
Sloan was waiting for me when I got home.
She stood in the kitchen wearing a cream-colored sweater and holding a mug from my favorite set.
Like she still belonged there.
Like she hadn't tried to steal my house.
She smiled.
“I thought we should talk.””
I put my handbag on the counter.
“No.””
Her smile disappeared.
“You're making a mistake.””
“I think you've already made several.””
She set down the mug.
“Harrison didn't mean to hurt you.””
“Then why did you impersonate me?””
Her face drained of color.
“I don't know what you're talking about.””
“Good.””
I nodded toward the front door.
“Then you won't mind leaving.””
She didn't move.
“This is Harrison's home too.””
“No.””
“He has a right to live here.””
“He has a right to live somewhere. This is my property.””
Sloan laughed once.
A sharp, humorless sound.
“You really think you're going to throw us out?””
“I already changed the locks.””
“You think that little trick makes you powerful?””
I looked at her.
“No.””
I stepped closer.
“Knowing the truth does.””
For the first time, fear flickered across her face.
Then anger covered it.
“You've always hated me.””
“That isn't true.””
“You never thought I was good enough for your son.””
“I welcomed you into my home.””
“You judged me.””
“I trusted you.””
“That was your mistake.””
The words came out before she could stop them.
Silence filled the room.
Sloan blinked.
I whispered, “Say that again.””
She looked away.
I reached for my phone.
Detective Hale's number was already open.
Sloan saw it.
Her expression changed immediately.
“You called the police?””
“Yes.””
She took a step backward.
“What did you tell them?””
“The truth.””
Harrison came through the front door.
He looked exhausted.
His tie was crooked.
His face was pale.
“Mom.””
I turned.
“Your wife just admitted she made a mistake.””
Harrison looked at Sloan.
She shook her head.
“Eleanor—”
“Don't call me Mom.””
He stopped.
“You knew.””
He rubbed his forehead.
“I knew about the mortgage.””
“And the deed?””
“I didn't know Sloan would actually—”
“Actually what?””
His eyes closed.
“Go through with it.””
Something inside me cracked.
“You knew your wife planned to steal my house.””
“I thought we'd fix it.””
“You thought?””
“I was trying to help her.””
“With my money?””
“I was going to pay it back.””
“With a loan against my house?””
“I didn't know what else to do.””
I stared at him.
“Tell me about the debt.””
He didn't answer.
Sloan did.
“It wasn't what you think.””
I looked at her.
“Then tell me.””
She sat down.
Her hands trembled.
“I owed money from my business.””
“What business?””
“A boutique.””
“How much?””
She looked at Harrison.
He whispered, “Two hundred and forty thousand.””
I sank into the chair opposite them.
“Two hundred and forty thousand dollars?””
Sloan nodded.
“I thought I could recover.””
“By stealing my home?””
“I was desperate.””
“So you forged my name.””
“I never touched the pen.””
“You sat there and let someone impersonate me.””
Sloan cried.
For the first time since I'd met her, I didn't feel sorry for her.
“Why my house?””
Harrison finally answered.
“Because there was enough equity.””
I looked at my son.
“You weren't trying to borrow against it.””
“What?””
“You were going to sell it.””
His eyes filled.
“Sloan had buyers.””
The room went silent.
I remembered every little thing I'd dismissed.
Sloan measuring the dining room.
Sloan asking how old the roof was.
Sloan taking pictures of the backyard.
Sloan telling her friend on the phone that “houses in this neighborhood move fast.””
It had all been preparation.
“How long?””
Harrison looked at the floor.
“Six months.””
Six months.
They had been planning to erase me from my own home for half a year.
I stood.
“You need to leave.””
“Mom—”
“Tonight.””
Sloan rose.
“This house belongs to me.””
“No,” I said.
“Legally, I think it does,” she snapped.
I smiled without warmth.
“No, Sloan.””
I picked up the folder Detective Hale had left.
“Legally, you have a forged deed, a fraudulent power of attorney, and a mortgage application filed using stolen identity information.””
Her face went white.
Harrison grabbed her arm.
“Stop talking.””
She pulled away.
“You said the lawyer had everything handled!””
Harrison stared at her.
“What lawyer?””
Sloan froze.
I saw it then.
A new name on the table.
A business card.
*Grant Holloway — Financial Restructuring Attorney.*
I picked it up.
“Who is Grant Holloway?””
Neither answered.
I turned the card over.
There was a handwritten number on the back.
And below it, in Sloan's handwriting, were four words.
*He knows about the trust.*
I looked at Harrison.
“What trust?””
His face collapsed.
Sloan whispered, “Eleanor…”
“What trust?””
Harrison sat down.
“You were never supposed to find out.””
My heart pounded.
“Find out what?””
May you like
He stared at the floor.
“The house isn't the only thing Dad left you.””