PART6-My Son Tried to Take My House, But He Forgot One Important Thing: It Was Never His
PART 6
I looked up slowly.
“Greg…”
His face turned pale.
“I can explain.”
But before he could finish, someone knocked on the door.
Again.
This time, it was not Emily.
It was a man wearing a suit.
Holding a briefcase.
“Mrs. Eleanor?”
I stood up.
“Yes?”
He looked at Greg.
Then back at me.
“I am here regarding the property investigation.”
My heart sank.
“Investigation?”
The man opened his briefcase.
“There appears to have been an attempt to commit financial fraud involving this home.”
Greg froze.
And I realized…
The story was not over.
Because my son had made a terrible mistake.
But someone else had been helping him.
Someone who had been watching this house for months.
Someone who wanted the house even more than Greg and Dana did.
And now…
They were finally coming after it.
The man stood in my doorway holding a black briefcase.
He looked calm.
Professional.
But there was something serious in his eyes.
“Mrs. Eleanor Whitmore?”
“Yes.”
“My name is Daniel Harris. I work with the county property fraud division.”
Greg immediately stood up.
“Why are you here?”
The man’s eyes moved toward him.
“That is exactly what we need to discuss.”
My stomach tightened.
I looked at my son.
For the first time, Greg looked afraid.
Not angry.
Not confident.
Afraid.
Daniel opened his briefcase and removed several documents.
“Mrs. Whitmore, before we continue, I need to ask you one question.”
“Yes?”
“Did you ever authorize anyone to represent you in the sale, transfer, or refinancing of this property?”
I shook my head.
“No.”
Daniel nodded.
“Did you ever sign a power of attorney allowing someone else to make decisions regarding this house?”
“No.”
He looked at Greg.
“Mr. Greg Whitmore?”
Greg didn’t answer.
Daniel continued.
“Then we have a problem.”
The room became silent.
“What kind of problem?” I asked.
Daniel placed a document on the table.
“This.”
I looked down.
My heart sank.
It was a copy of a property authorization form.
My name was on it.
But I had never seen it before.
The signature looked similar.
Almost perfect.
Almost.
But I knew my own handwriting.
And that was not mine.
“This is fake,” I whispered.
Daniel nodded.
“Yes.”
Greg stepped back.
“I didn’t know about that.”
Daniel looked at him.
“Mr. Whitmore, your name appears on several communication records with a private real estate company.”
Greg’s face changed.
“I spoke to a realtor. That’s all.”
“Which realtor?”
Greg didn’t answer.
Daniel looked at his notes.
“Charles Bennett.”
I recognized the name.
Chuck.
The realtor who came into my living room.
The man who drank coffee from Walter’s favorite mug.
The man who laughed when Greg joked about me leaving.
My hands tightened.
“He was involved?”
Daniel nodded.
“We believe so.”
Greg sat down slowly.
“No.”
His voice was barely a whisper.
“No, Chuck wouldn’t…”
I looked at him.
“Why?”
Greg looked confused.
“Why would he do this?”
Daniel answered.
“Because this property is worth far more than four hundred thousand dollars.”
Greg looked up.
“What?”
Daniel placed another document down.
“Your home sits on land that has recently increased significantly in value. A development company has been buying properties in this area.”
I stared at him.
“The neighbors?”
“Some of them.”
Daniel nodded.
“They purchase older homes, combine the lots, and build luxury properties.”
I thought about Walter.
The garden he planted.
The trees he cared for.
The little workshop in the backyard.
All those years.
Someone saw only money.
“The property value is closer to one million dollars now.”
Greg’s eyes widened.
One million.
Suddenly, everything made sense.
The urgency.
The pressure.
The nursing home.
The suitcase.
They didn’t want me gone because they cared about me.
They wanted me gone because I was standing between them and a fortune.
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