Chapter 2 - THE FLOORBOARDS
The next morning, the storm had passed, leaving a heavy, humid silence over the Oakhaven property. My body screamed in agony as I leaned heavily on my crutch, making my way to my father's old study at the back of the house.
Mr. Henderson had brought over some groceries and was making pancakes for Emma in the kitchen. I needed to do this alone.
I counted the floorboards from the heavy oak desk, just as my father's letter instructed. Three across, two down. I wedged the edge of a heavy brass letter opener into the seam of the wood. With a painful groan that echoed my own physical strain, the old wood popped loose.
Beneath it lay a heavy steel lockbox.
The combination was my mother's birthday. The lock clicked open.
Inside, I found a meticulously organized dossier. My father had hired a private investigator. There were glossy photographs of Marcus dining at expensive restaurants with a blonde woman—the real estate agent who had sold us our house. There were bank statements highlighting the wire transfers of my combat pay.
But the most important item was a heavy brass key and a legal document. It was a deed.
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I scanned the paper, my breath catching in my throat. The house Marcus had just kicked me out of—the one he claimed was his—wasn't his at all. My father had quietly bought out the debt and transferred the absolute deed into an impenetrable trust in my name. Marcus had zero legal right to the property. He was legally a squatter.
A dark, dangerous smile crept onto my face. Marcus thought he had thrown away a burden. He didn't realize he had just handed a loaded weapon to a trained soldier.
