Chapter 3 - The Woman Wearing My Robe
I rented a hotel room for my parents and Felix.
Then I called an attorney named Claire Donovan.
She had handled the sale of my grandmother’s property six years earlier.
That sale had provided the down payment for the Charlotte house.
The property sold for one hundred and eighty thousand dollars.
I contributed every cent.
In addition to the two thousand dollars I sent each month, I transferred bonuses, tax refunds and nearly all the money left to me by my grandmother.
Over five years, I had sent more than three hundred thousand dollars home.
Russell claimed the mortgage balance was nearly paid.
Claire agreed to meet me outside the house.
When we arrived, a silver luxury car was parked in the driveway.
Pink balloons surrounded the porch.
A sign near the door read:
WELCOME HOME, SABRINA
I almost laughed.
I had spent five years waiting to see those words.
They had been prepared for another woman.
I used my original key.
It no longer worked.
Claire rang the bell.
Russell opened the door wearing a white shirt and expensive watch I had never seen.
His smile disappeared when he saw me.
“Maren.”
Sabrina appeared behind him.
She wore my blue silk robe.
The one Felix had given me for Mother’s Day before I left for Tampa.
“Who is this?” she asked.
Russell looked between us.
“My wife.”
Sabrina’s expression changed.
“You said the divorce was final.”
“It is complicated.”
“No,” I said. “It is nonexistent.”
Russell stepped outside and closed the door behind him.
“Where is Felix?”
“Safe.”
“And your parents?”
“Safer than they were with you.”
His face hardened.
“They chose to leave.”
“You threw them onto the street.”
“They interfered in our marriage.”
“Our marriage?”
I looked toward the window.
Sabrina had moved behind the curtain.
“You put another woman in my bedroom.”
“You were gone for five years.”
“I was paying for this house.”
“You chose to work away.”
“You asked me to.”
He lowered his voice.
“Maren, we can discuss this privately.”
Claire stepped forward.
“I am her attorney.”
Russell looked at her.
“For what?”
“The property, the missing funds and the forged divorce documents.”
His expression shifted.
Only slightly.
But enough.
“You have no right to enter my home,” he said.
Claire opened her folder.
“The deed lists Maren Caldwell as the sole legal owner.”
Russell laughed.
“That is impossible.”
“No. It is unusual, but not impossible.”
When the house was purchased, Claire had recommended placing the title in my name because the entire down payment came from my inheritance.
Russell agreed because he believed marriage gave him automatic ownership.
The mortgage listed both of us as borrowers.
The deed did not.
I had signed the purchase documents before leaving for Tampa.
Russell apparently never read them carefully.
“This is marital property,” he said.
“That question can be decided during divorce proceedings,” Claire replied. “But you cannot remove the titled owner, replace the locks and claim exclusive possession without legal process.”
Russell looked at me.
“You think one piece of paper lets you throw me out?”
“No.”
I held up my phone.
“The other papers might.”
Before leaving the bus station, I had called the bank.
The joint account that received my transfers contained less than four thousand dollars.
The mortgage was three months behind.
Russell had refinanced the property using a forged signature and opened a line of credit for one hundred and sixty thousand dollars.
Most of the money had gone toward Sabrina’s boutique, luxury vehicles and gambling websites.
The bank’s fraud department had already frozen the remaining credit line.
Claire had contacted the lender.
A handwriting expert would examine the refinance documents.
Russell’s confidence weakened.
“You cannot prove I forged anything.”
“I was in Tampa on the date the document was supposedly notarized in Charlotte.”
“The notary confirmed your identity.”
“The notary is Sabrina’s sister.”
Sabrina opened the door.
“Russell?”
He turned sharply.
“Go inside.”
She looked at me.
“This house is half his.”
“No,” I said. “At the moment, it is entirely mine.”
Sabrina laughed.
“Then why did he show me the deed?”
Claire removed a second document.
“Because he created another one.”
Russell had shown Sabrina a quitclaim deed transferring the property from me to him.
My signature appeared at the bottom.
I had never seen it.
Claire’s voice became colder.
“Using a forged deed to obtain financing is not merely a marital disagreement.”
Russell stared at the street.
A dark sedan had parked behind us.
Two investigators from the bank stepped out.
May you like
His smile finally vanished.
But the phone call that took everything away had not happened yet.
