Chapter 4: The Promise Her Husband Left Behind
Loretta read the message on Andre’s phone three times before she looked at her son.
“What did your father sign?””
Andre shook his head.
“I don't know, Mom. I swear I don't.””
Camille stood beside the office door, gripping her purse so tightly that the leather creaked beneath her fingers.
“Delete that message,” she whispered.
Andre turned toward her.
“Are you out of your mind?””
“You don't understand who sent it.””
“Then tell me!””
“I can't.””
Loretta took the phone from Andre and examined the unknown number. The message contained no name, no photograph, and no explanation. Just a threat wrapped in a reference to a dead man.
Her husband, Walter, had been many things during their forty-one years together. He had been stubborn, generous, occasionally infuriating, and fiercely protective of his family. He had also been meticulous with money.
Walter kept receipts from grocery stores, made copies of every contract, and insisted that even relatives should read the fine print before signing anything.
He would never have casually surrendered control of their home.
Unless he had believed he was protecting someone.
Loretta looked at Camille.
“You said someone gave you the photocopy. Was it the person who sent this message?””
Camille shook her head.
“I don't know. I received the paper through someone else.””
“Someone else has a name.””
“I can't give you that name.””
“Why?””
“Because I was told that if I did, Andre would lose everything.””
Andre stared at her.
“What exactly would I lose?””
Camille's eyes filled with tears, but her voice remained sharp.
“Our house. Our savings. Everything we've worked for.””
Loretta almost interrupted, then stopped herself.
Their house?
Camille and Andre lived in the guest wing of Loretta's property. They had no mortgage, no rent, and no utility bills in their names.
“What house are you talking about?”” Loretta asked.
Camille looked away.
Andre noticed.
“Camille, answer her.””
“My house,” she said bitterly.
“The one you promised we'd have someday.””
Andre's expression hardened.
“I never promised you this house.””
“You said your mother wouldn't live here forever.””
“I meant someday she'd retire somewhere smaller!””
“And you thought she'd simply hand us the property?””
“No! I thought we'd discuss it like a family!””
Loretta watched the argument with an ache that had nothing to do with the sale.
She had spent years believing her son understood that love did not mean ownership. Apparently, somewhere along the way, the distinction had become less clear.
She placed the phone on the desk.
“Camille, I am not asking you to protect me from the truth. I am asking you to stop protecting whoever is threatening my family.””
Camille's face crumpled for a moment.
Then she looked toward the open safe.
“I didn't know it would go this far.””
“Go how far?””
“I thought the documents were legitimate.””
“You just told us you didn't know anything about them.””
“I said I didn't create them!””
Andre took a step toward her.
“Did you know someone was trying to sell Mom's house?””
Camille closed her eyes.
“Yes.””
The admission hung in the air.
Andre backed away as if she had struck him.
“For how long?””
“Three months.””
“Three months?””
“I thought the paperwork was being reviewed. I thought your mother would be offered a fair price.””
“Without telling her?””
“I was told she would be informed at the right time!””
“By whom?””
Camille's lips trembled.
She looked at Loretta, then at Andre.
Finally, she whispered, “A man named Marcus Bell.””
Loretta frowned.
The name meant nothing to her.
“Who is Marcus Bell?””
“He works with property investors. He approached me after a charity event last spring. He said he knew people interested in buying older luxury properties in this neighborhood.””
“And you gave him information about my house?””
Camille didn't answer.
Loretta's voice grew colder.
“Did you?””
“Yes.””
Andre turned away and pressed both hands against his head.
“Oh, my God.””
Camille hurried toward him.
“Please, listen to me. He said the property had tremendous value. He said your mother might be sitting on an asset that could change our lives.””
“So you decided to help him take it?””
“I thought there would be a legitimate offer!””
“Then why did you hide it?””
“Because I knew your mother would refuse before hearing the numbers!””
Loretta stood motionless.
There it was again.
The belief that her decisions were obstacles to be overcome rather than choices to be respected.
She reached into her handbag and removed the preliminary agreement.
“Where did Marcus get the authority to sell my property?””
“I don't know.””
“Who prepared the power of attorney?””
“I never saw the original.””
“Who has it now?””
Camille looked toward the hallway.
“I think Marcus does.””
Loretta took out her own phone.
“I am calling the police.””
Camille grabbed her wrist.
“No!””
Loretta pulled free.
“Do not touch me.””
Camille stepped backward, breathing rapidly.
“If you call them, Marcus will destroy the evidence.””
“Then perhaps you should have thought of that before helping him.””
“I was trying to secure our future!””
“And you were willing to gamble mine.””
For the first time, Camille had no response.
Loretta dialed her attorney, Eleanor Price, whose number she had memorized years ago.
Eleanor answered on the second ring.
“Loretta? It's late. Is everything all right?””
“No. Someone is attempting to sell my home using a document I never signed.””
There was a brief silence.
Then Eleanor's voice sharpened.
“Have you signed any power of attorney, authorization, or property agreement in the last year?””
“No.””
“Has anyone had access to your original property records?””
“My office has been entered. My safe is open. A folder is missing.””
“Don't touch anything else. Photograph every document you have. I want you to preserve the messages and avoid confronting anyone further until we establish what we're dealing with.””
Loretta glanced at Camille.
“Someone is also threatening my son.””
“Threatening him how?””
“A message says my late husband signed something before he died. It mentions a missing page seven.””
Eleanor fell silent.
This time, the silence lasted longer.
“Loretta,” she finally said, “I need you to listen carefully. Did Walter ever tell you he had entered into an agreement involving the property?””
“No.””
“Did he ever mention a private loan, a trust, or an investor?””
“No. Why?””
“Because I remember reviewing a document with Walter shortly before his death. He asked me to hold it separately from the estate papers.””
Loretta's grip tightened around the phone.
“What document?””
“I don't remember every detail. It was connected to a business dispute. Walter said it would be safer if certain records remained outside the ordinary estate file.””
“Why didn't you tell me?””
“Because he asked me not to disclose it unless a specific condition was met.””
“What condition?””
Eleanor hesitated.
“If someone attempted to transfer the house without your consent, I was supposed to contact you immediately.””
Loretta stared at the phone.
“Then why haven't you contacted me?””
“Because I only learned about the proposed sale this afternoon.””
“How?””
“Someone called my office claiming to represent the buyer.””
Loretta felt the room grow colder.
“What did they want?””
“A certified copy of Walter's agreement.””
“And did you give it to them?””
“Absolutely not.””
A loud crash sounded downstairs.
All three turned toward the office door.
Someone shouted for help.
Andre rushed into the hallway, with Loretta following close behind.
At the bottom of the staircase, one of the guests stood beside the front entrance, staring at a large envelope that had been pushed beneath the door.
No return address.
No postage.
Just Loretta's name printed in bold black letters.
She descended the final steps and picked it up.
Inside was a single sheet of paper and a small brass key.
The paper contained one sentence.
*ASK YOUR ATTORNEY WHO REALLY OWNS YOUR HOUSE.*
Beneath it, someone had written a date.
The date of Walter's death.
And on the back of the page was a handwritten note:
*MIDNIGHT. COME ALONE IF YOU WANT TO KNOW WHAT YOUR HUSBAND HID.*
Loretta looked at the clock above the fireplace.
It was 10:47 p.m.
Then her phone buzzed again.
May you like
Eleanor had sent a message.
*Loretta, don't go anywhere alone. I just found the file Walter left me. Page seven is missing.*
