Chapter 3 - The Fake Loan
I stared at Brent’s smug, deeply tanned face through the phone screen.
He was sipping a colorful cocktail, completely unbothered by the fact that his wife and infant were supposed to be locked outside in a storm.
"What do you mean you secured a loan against the house?" I asked, forcing my voice to remain neutral.
Brent laughed arrogantly, leaning back in his expensive patio chair.
"I met with a private equity investor down here in Miami," he bragged.
"I used the Redwood Crest estate as collateral for a two-million-dollar business venture."
"We are going to be incredibly rich, Tessa."
My heart hammered violently against my ribs, but my legal training kept my face completely blank.
"You cannot use my house as collateral, Brent," I stated calmly.
"Your name is not on the property deed."
Brent’s arrogant smile widened into a malicious, calculated grin.
"I know my name isn't on the deed, sweetheart," he patronized me.
"But I had you sign a stack of routine tax documents last week before the baby was born."
"One of those documents was a limited power of attorney regarding joint marital assets."
I felt a sudden, sickening wave of nausea wash over me.
I vividly remembered him rushing me to sign papers while I was having painful contractions in the living room.
I had trusted my husband implicitly, signing where he pointed just to make the distraction go away.
"You tricked me into signing a power of attorney?" I asked, my voice barely a whisper.
"I simply expedited our family's financial growth," Brent corrected smoothly.
"The investor is wiring the funds to my private account tomorrow morning."
"You and Ivy just stay cozy at Molly’s place for a while."
"I will be home in a few days to celebrate my massive success."
He ended the video call before I could utter a single word in response.
I dropped my phone onto the passenger seat, my entire body shaking with fury.
"What did he do?" Molly demanded, pulling her car into her apartment parking garage.
"He used a fraudulent power of attorney to borrow two million dollars against my house," I choked out.
Molly slammed the steering wheel hard with her open palm.
"Can he actually do that?" she asked, her voice laced with panic.
"If the private lender did not properly verify the title history, yes," I explained.
"Once they place a legal lien on the property, I will not be able to sell it."
I grabbed Ivy’s diaper bag and rushed into Molly’s warm apartment.
I gently laid my sleeping daughter in a safe bassinet and immediately called Jennifer.
I explained the horrifying situation rapidly, pacing back and forth across the hardwood floor.
"Tessa, breathe," Jennifer ordered firmly over the phone.
"A power of attorney obtained under medical duress is entirely contestable in court."
"But contesting it takes months of litigation," I argued desperately.
"I need to close the cash sale of this house tomorrow, before Brent's loan officially processes."
Jennifer typed furiously on her keyboard in the background.
"The cash buyer's corporate legal team is working overtime tonight," she said.
"If we execute the transfer of deed at dawn, Brent's private lender will try to place a lien on a house you no longer own."
"The loan will instantly bounce back as massive fraud."
"Brent will be fully legally responsible for attempting to defraud an investor."
A small glimmer of hope finally pierced through the overwhelming darkness of the night.
"Get the paperwork ready for dawn," I instructed my lawyer.
"I am selling my dream home to destroy his life."
I spent the next six hours sitting awake in a rocking chair, holding Ivy close to my chest.
At exactly six in the morning, my phone buzzed with an urgent notification.
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It was an automated alert from my home security system.
Someone was currently using a heavy crowbar to smash the glass on my front door.
