Julian’s glass slipped in his hand. Scotch splashed on the porch.
He said, I don’t know what you’re talking about.
The detective stepped forward. Detective Rosa Chen.
She said, Sir, we pulled the county records this afternoon. A deed was recorded in July. Transferring ownership from Natalie Brooks to Khloe Reyes.
She said, The notary’s stamp belongs to a woman who says she’s never met Ms. Brooks. She says you paid her two hundred dollars to stamp it.
She said, Forging a deed is a felony in Texas.
Behind Julian, the party had gone quiet. Guests were standing in the doorway. Staring.
Khloe pushed through them. She said, What’s going on?
Then she saw me. And the deputy. And the detective.
Julian said, quietly, Go inside, Khloe.
Detective Chen said, Ma’am, we’ll need to speak with you too. Your name is on the deed.
Khloe went white.
Harrison handed Julian a second paper.
He said, This is a written notice to vacate. Ms. Brooks is the legal owner. The forged deed will be voided by the court.
He said, You have three days. If you don’t leave, we’ll file for eviction. And the judge will see this deed.
The detective asked Julian to come to the station. To answer questions. He went. Still in his robe.
The guests left. One by one. Quietly.
Khloe stood on the porch. Alone.
She looked at me. She said, You did this. In one night.
I said, Julian did this. Three months ago.
I went back to the hotel. Mom was asleep. A nurse had wrapped her knees.
At midnight, my phone rang. Khloe.
She was crying. She said, Natalie, I didn’t know about the deed. I swear.
She said, Julian handled the paperwork. He said it was insurance stuff.
She said, He’s been gambling. He lost his job a year ago. We owe two hundred thousand dollars.
She said, He said if the house was in my name, we could borrow against it. Then we’d pay it all back. You’d never know.
Then she said, very quietly, He already did.
There’s a hundred-and-fifty-thousand-dollar loan. Against your house.
Part 3: Six Years
I didn’t sleep that night. I sat by the hotel window. Mom asleep in the next room. I let myself count.
Six years in Dubai.
I went there at twenty-nine. An engineer. Twelve-hour days. Desert construction sites. Fifty-degree heat.
I counted the paychecks I sent home. Seventy-two. Every month. Three thousand dollars.
Two hundred and sixteen thousand dollars. Over six years.
Then the house. Six hundred thousand. Cash. Every dollar I’d saved.
I counted the video calls with Mom. Hundreds. Every Sunday.
She was always smiling. Always said she was fine. Always sitting in the same corner of the kitchen.
I never noticed the master bedroom behind her had changed. Different furniture. Julian’s golf clubs.
Then I counted what Mom told me in the car.
Two years. They took the master bedroom the first week. Her allowance cards the second.
She cooked every meal. Cleaned every room. Did their laundry. Washed their cars.
Julian called her the maid. In front of his friends. As a joke.
Khloe let him.
Then I counted Khloe.
My older sister. Thirty-eight. I paid for her college. Her wedding. Her first car.
She told me Julian was a successful financial advisor.
He’d been fired for gambling a year ago.
Then I counted the loan.
A hundred and fifty thousand dollars. Against my house. Using a forged deed.
Harrison said the bank would void it. Since the deed was fraudulent. But it would take months.
Then I counted my mother.
Sixty-two. Thirty years as a school cafeteria worker. She raised Khloe and me alone after our father left.
She never asked me for anything. Not once.
She knelt on that patio for two years. Because she didn’t want to lose her family.
The next afternoon, someone knocked on the hotel room door.
It was Khloe.
