Chapter 3 - The Trap is Set

The phone rang three times before a gruff, sleep-deprived voice answered.

"Vance Realty. This better be good; the sun isn't even up yet," the man grumbled, papers rustling loudly in the background.

"Mr. Vance," I said, my voice completely devoid of emotion, clipped and razor-sharp. "My name is Maren Calder. I believe you just completed a transaction involving my late father’s property on Whispering Pine Lane."

There was a brief pause on the line, followed by the sound of a coffee mug clattering onto a desk.

"Ah," Vance recovered quickly, adopting a smooth, oily sales pitch tone. "Maren! Yes, your mother and Mr. Pike mentioned you were out of state. Look, it was a fast cash liquidation, completely legal, signed, and sealed by the co-owner. The funds are already moving into escrow—"

"Mr. Vance," I interrupted, my tone freezing the air in his office through miles of fiber-optic cable. "Did you verify the primary trust registry before pushing that contract through?"

"Of course I did," Vance scoffed, though a slight note of defensive hesitation crept into his voice. "I have a signed deed right here from Mrs. Calder—"

"A deed signed by a secondary occupant who holds zero legal title," I cut him off smoothly. "Let me educate you on federal and state property law, Marcus. That cabin is locked inside an irrevocable trust under document 44890-B. My father established it fifteen years ago. My signature is required for any transfer, lease, or sale. Not my mother's. Not Dorian's."

Silence swallowed the line. I could hear the sharp intake of breath on the other end.

"That... that's impossible," Vance stammered, the oily confidence completely draining out of his voice. "Mr. Pike swore up and down that the family owned it free and clear, that you had abandoned any claim—"

"Mr. Pike is a chronic gambler facing federal tax liens and local fraud charges," I replied evenly. "And you, Mr. Vance, as a licensed real estate broker, failed to perform due diligence before facilitating an illegal asset transfer and pocketing a five-figure commission on stolen property."

"Wait, wait, wait," Vance whispered, panic now fully gripping his throat. "Let's not jump to conclusions. We can fix this! The buyer hasn't taken physical possession yet. The closing documents are sitting right here on my desk for final notarization at nine o'clock this morning!"

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"Oh, they're going to be notarized alright," I replied quietly. "In fact, I'm conference-calling your office line right now with my legal counsel and the state investigators. Do not leave your desk, Marcus. You're about to have a very interesting morning."

I tapped a key on my keyboard, routing the connection directly into Dorian’s cell phone line while keeping Vance on the line. It was time to watch the house of cards collapse.