Chapter 4: The Version They Agreed On
Scott called four more times that night.
Then he stopped.
At 6:15 the next morning, my mother called.
I answered.
"Erica." Her voice was measured.
Careful in a way it almost never was.
"I think we need to talk about this calmly."
"Go ahead."
"Scott made some decisions that were — he got ahead of himself.
I understand that.
But the loan is already done, and the sale money is sitting in escrow.
There's enough to cover it.
If you just release the funds—"
"Mom." I kept my voice flat.
"He forged an ownership agreement.
You notarized it."
"I didn't think of it as forging.
Your father always intended—"
"Dad left the deed to me.
Solely to me.
That was his intention, in writing, witnessed and filed."
"He didn't understand what he was doing at the end.
You know that."
I stood up from the table.
"Are you telling me Dad wasn't competent when he wrote his will?"
Silence.
"Because if that's the argument you want to make, we can make it in front of a judge."
"Don't threaten me." The careful tone cracked.
"We are your family.
Scott needed that money.
He was in trouble — real trouble — and that house was just sitting there while you decided whether to sell it."
"I was the one who fixed it.
I was the one who paid for it.
I was the one who turned down seven hundred thousand dollars to keep it in the family."
"And you sold it anyway the second we inconvenienced you."
"You told me I wasn't welcome in my own house."
She didn't answer that.
"Mom.
I need you to tell me exactly what Scott told you before you signed that letter."
Another silence.
Longer.
"He said it was a formality.
That you had already agreed, and the bank just needed something on paper."
"I never agreed."
"He said you did."
"I never agreed.
Not once.
Not in any conversation, not in any message, not in any form."
I heard her breathing on the other end of the line.
"He told me you did, Erica."
"I know he did."
The line went quiet for a long moment.
When she spoke again, something in her voice had shifted — not quite toward me, but away from the certainty she had walked in with.
"What happens now?" she asked.
"That depends on Scott," I said.
"Dana is already working on it."
I ended the call.
Twenty minutes later, a text from Scott arrived.
Seven words.
May you like
*"You need to drop this.
For everyone."*
