Chapter 2 — The Deed in Mason's Hands
Chapter 2 — The Deed in Mason's Hands
For several seconds, nobody moved.
The police officer held the folder in one hand.
In the other was the document that had just changed everything.
My name.
My address.
My property.
My house.
I stared at the deed as if staring long enough would somehow make the explanation obvious.
It didn't.
My mother stood ten feet away.
For the first time that night, Teresa looked old.
Not helpless.
Not innocent.
Just exposed.
"Mason," I said quietly.
He wouldn't look at me.
"Why did you have my deed?"
"I didn't steal it."
"Then why were you running out the back gate with it?"
He swallowed.
"I was taking it somewhere safe."
"Safe from whom?"
He looked at Teresa.
That was all the answer I needed.
I turned toward my mother.
"Why?"
She crossed her arms.
"You are making a scene."
I almost laughed.
A scene?
My wife had been forced to wash dishes while holding our feverish baby.
My relatives had been drinking in my backyard.
My mother had spent money from my account without asking.
My cousin had been caught trying to leave with my property deed.
And somehow, I was the one making a scene.
I stepped toward her.
"Why did you take my deed?"
"I didn't take anything."
"Then where did Mason get it?"
"I told him to move some documents."
"Which documents?"
"Family documents."
"This isn't a family document."
I pointed at the deed.
"It's mine."
My mother sighed.
"Connor, you don't understand how these things work."
The officer interrupted.
"Ma'am, don't make statements about the document until we establish what's going on."
She glared at him.
"You don't know this family."
The officer didn't react.
"I'm not here to know your family. I'm here because someone called 911."
He turned toward me.
"Sir, is this your residence?"
"Yes."
"Are you the legal homeowner?"
"As far as I know."
"As far as you know?"
I looked down.
The words sounded strange coming from me.
"Yes."
The officer glanced at the document again.
"We'll need to verify that."
My stomach tightened.
"Verify what?"
"Whether the document is authentic, and whether there have been any filings involving the property."
My mother suddenly stepped forward.
"There's nothing wrong with the house."
The officer looked at her.
"Then you shouldn't have anything to worry about."
She said nothing.
I watched her carefully.
She looked at Mason.
Mason looked at the ground.
Something had happened.
Something much bigger than a birthday party.
Behind me, Amy opened the car door.
"Connor?"
I turned immediately.
She was sitting in the passenger seat.
Frederick was still strapped into his car seat.
His cheeks were flushed.
I walked over.
"How is he?"
"Still hot."
I touched his forehead.
He was burning.
The ambulance had arrived, and paramedics were preparing to examine him.
One of them approached.
"Is this your son?"
"Yes."
"What's his name?"
"Frederick."
"How old?"
"One."
"Has he had any medical problems?"
"No."
"When did the fever start?"
Amy answered.
"About three hours ago."
The paramedic checked his temperature.
Then looked at us.
"We're going to take him in."
Amy's face immediately tightened.
"I'm coming."
I nodded.
"Of course."
Before getting into the ambulance, I looked back at my house.
The party was still there.
Food.
Balloons.
Tables.
Relatives standing in clusters.
And my mother.
She watched the ambulance pull away.
She didn't look worried about her grandson.
She looked worried about the folder.
That was the moment I knew.
Whatever was inside that folder mattered more to her than the birthday she had supposedly thrown for her grandson.
At the hospital, Amy sat beside Frederick's bed.
I stood near the window.
My phone wouldn't stop vibrating.
Messages.
Calls.
Family group chats.
I ignored all of them.
A doctor came in and examined Frederick.
"His fever is high, but we're not seeing anything immediately dangerous."
Amy exhaled.
"Thank God."
"We'll monitor him and run a few tests."
I nodded.
"Thank you."
When the doctor left, Amy looked at me.
"Connor."
"Yeah?"
"What are you going to do?"
I knew what she meant.
My mother.
The deed.
The money.
Everything.
"I don't know yet."
Amy looked down at her hands.
"I think you should."
I sat beside her.
"What?"
"Know what you're going to do."
She took a breath.
"Because I can't keep living like this."
My chest tightened.
"What do you mean?"
She looked at me.
"I was scared you wouldn't believe me."
"Believe you about what?"
She hesitated.
Then she whispered:
"Your mother has been asking me to sign things."
I stared at her.
"What things?"
"I don't know exactly."
"Amy."
"Connor, she never let me read them properly."
"Why not?"
"She always said they were routine."
I felt a chill.
"What did she say they were for?"
"Groceries. Baby expenses. Household management."
I leaned forward.
"Did you sign them?"
Amy's eyes filled with tears.
"Some."
My heart sank.
"How many?"
"I don't know."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I tried."
I closed my eyes.
I remembered.
The little comments.
The awkward conversations.
The times Amy had tried to tell me Teresa was becoming too involved.
And every time, I had defended my mother.
I had said things like:
"She means well."
"She's just trying to help."
"Don't take it personally."
God.
What an idiot I had been.
Amy touched my hand.
"I didn't want to come between you and your mother."
"You didn't."
She shook her head.
"I did."
"No."
I looked directly at her.
"She did."
Amy started crying.
I moved closer.
"I'm sorry."
She wiped her face.
"I just wanted Frederick to have a normal family."
"So did I."
She gave me a sad smile.
"Then we need to protect it."
I nodded.
"We will."
At that moment, my phone rang.
It was my attorney, David Mercer.
I stepped into the hallway.
"David?"
"Connor, I just got a call from the officer."
"Yeah."
"He told me about the deed."
"Have you seen it?"
"Not yet. But I need you to do something."
"What?"
"Don't confront your mother."
I looked through the hospital window.
Amy was sitting beside Frederick.
"I already did."
"Then don't do it again."
"Why?"
"Because if there has been an attempt to alter ownership of your property, we need evidence. Not another family argument."
I swallowed.
"Can she take my house?"
"Not if the title is clean and you haven't legally transferred ownership."
"And if I have?"
There was silence.
"That's what we're going to find out."
I leaned against the wall.
"David, I never signed anything transferring my house."
"You're sure?"
"Absolutely."
"Good."
"What?"
"Because the document the officer described sounds like something we need to examine carefully."
"Why?"
"Because if someone forged your signature or used an old signature to create a fraudulent transfer, that's a serious matter."
I looked down the hallway.
"How serious?"
"Serious enough that you shouldn't discuss the details with anyone involved."
My stomach turned.
"Not even my mother?"
"Especially not your mother."
The next morning, Frederick's fever had gone down.
The doctor allowed us to take him home.
Amy looked exhausted.
I felt exhausted.
But neither of us wanted to return to the house immediately.
So we stayed at a hotel.
It was the first time we'd been away from our home since we bought it.
Frederick slept between us.
Amy was lying on her side.
I was staring at the ceiling.
Neither of us spoke for several minutes.
Finally, Amy said:
"Do you still love her?"
I knew exactly who she meant.
"My mother?"
She nodded.
I thought about it.
"Yes."
Amy looked at me.
"But I don't trust her."
She nodded slowly.
"That's different."
"Very."
I turned toward her.
"I should have protected you."
"You are now."
"Too late."
"No."
She reached across the bed and held my hand.
"Not too late."
I squeezed her fingers.
"There's something else."
"What?"
"My mother told everyone I was giving her three thousand dollars every month."
Amy's face changed.
"She said that?"
"Yes."
"She told them she was using it for us."
Amy stared at me.
"Connor..."
"What?"
"I've been buying most of Frederick's things."
I felt something inside me drop.
"What?"
"Diapers."
She started counting on her fingers.
"Formula. Clothes. Medicine. Food. Sometimes the electric bill."
I stared at her.
"Then what was my mother doing with the money?"
"I don't know."
Neither did I.
But I was about to find out.
That afternoon, I opened my banking app.
I'd never really studied the transfers.
They were automatic.
Every month.
Three thousand dollars.
Same account.
Same recipient.
I started going backward.
One month.
Two.
Six.
Twelve.
My eyes widened.
"What's wrong?" Amy asked.
I didn't answer.
I opened a spreadsheet.
Then I started adding.
$3,000.
$3,000.
$3,000.
$3,000.
Twelve months.
Thirty-six thousand dollars.
But that wasn't all.
There were additional transfers.
$1,800.
$2,400.
$950.
$4,500.
My breathing became shallow.
I clicked on the largest one.
A description appeared.
PROPERTY MANAGEMENT — BRADLEY RESIDENCE
I stared at it.
"What is that?"
Amy leaned closer.
"I don't know."
I clicked another.
Same description.
Then another.
Then another.
I opened the transaction details.
A company name appeared.
Bradley Family Property Services, LLC.
I had never heard of it.
I searched my email.
Nothing.
I searched my files.
Nothing.
I searched my tax documents.
Nothing.
I looked at Amy.
"Have you ever heard of this company?"
She shook her head.
"No."
My phone rang.
David.
I answered.
"Connor."
"Yes?"
"I have an update."
My heart started pounding.
"What?"
"We checked the county property records."
I sat up.
"And?"
"There was an attempted filing."
My hand tightened around the phone.
"Attempted?"
"Yes."
"By whom?"
"That's where it gets interesting."
I looked at Amy.
David continued.
"Someone submitted a document claiming you transferred an interest in the property."
My throat went dry.
"To whom?"
"Teresa Bradley."
Amy covered her mouth.
I stood.
"How much?"
"Fifty percent."
I couldn't speak.
My mother had tried to claim half my house.
David continued.
"The filing was rejected."
I finally breathed again.
"Why?"
"The signature didn't match the county's verification requirements."
I sat back down.
"Can they try again?"
"They can try many things."
"What should I do?"
"Come to my office Monday morning."
"I'll be there."
"Bring every financial record you have."
"Okay."
"And Connor?"
"Yes?"
"Don't tell Teresa what we've found."
I looked at Amy.
"Why?"
"Because if she's behind this, she doesn't know how much we know."
I understood.
We needed to stay quiet.
We needed evidence.
And for the first time in my life, I needed to stop thinking like a son.
I needed to think like a husband.
And a father.
That evening, I drove past my house.
The birthday decorations were still hanging in the backyard.
Some balloons had deflated.
The tables were gone.
The yard was quiet.
I parked across the street.
I didn't get out.
Amy sat beside me.
"Do you want to go inside?"
I shook my head.
"Not yet."
She looked at the house.
"This is our home."
"I know."
"She can't take it."
I looked at her.
"No."
I reached for her hand.
"She can't."
Then my phone buzzed.
A text message.
From Mason.
We need to talk.
I stared at it.
Another message arrived.
You don't know what Teresa has done.
Then another.
And you don't know what she plans to do next.
I looked at Amy.
She read the messages over my shoulder.
"Don't answer."
"I wasn't going to."
The phone buzzed again.
This time, Mason sent a photograph.
It showed a stack of documents.
At the top was a title page.
I zoomed in.
My blood ran cold.
GUARDIANSHIP AND FINANCIAL AUTHORIZATION — FREDERICK BRADLEY
I looked at Amy.
She had gone completely pale.
"Connor..."
I stared at the screen.
My mother hadn't only been trying to control my money.
She hadn't only been trying to take my house.
She had been preparing documents involving our son.
I felt something inside me harden.
The birthday party suddenly seemed small.
The dirty dishes.
The insults.
The stolen deed.
Those were only pieces.
The real plan was much bigger.
And somewhere inside my mother's house was the rest of it.
I started the car.
Amy looked at me.
"Where are we going?"
I looked at the road ahead.
"To find out exactly what my mother has been doing."
She reached for my hand.
I held it tightly.
Neither of us spoke again.
Because we both knew one thing now.
May you like
The birthday party wasn't the beginning of the problem.
It was the moment we finally discovered it.
