My parents told Grandma they were taking her out to lunch. Three hours later, a nursing facility called me. Her suitcase was sitting in their lobby, and my parents were nowhere to be found. I drove 190 miles to bring her back with me. She clicked her seatbelt into place, looked straight at me, and said, “Don’t call them. I’ll tell you exactly where we’re going.”

The tires of my Honda Accord hummed against the cold asphalt as we sped toward the county courthouse.

My hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles had turned completely white.

Grandma Eleanor sat quietly in the passenger seat with her posture as rigid as forged steel.

She stared straight ahead through the windshield with a terrifyingly calm expression.

We did not speak for the remainder of the twenty-minute drive into the city.

I parked hastily in a loading zone and helped her out of the car.

The heavy wooden doors of the records building felt like the entrance to a prison.

We walked straight up to the property deeds counter where a bored clerk was chewing gum.

"I need to check the current legal status of my residential property," Grandma said clearly.

She handed the young woman her driver's license and her social security card.

The clerk lazily typed the information into her outdated computer system.

"You want the property on Elm Street?" the clerk asked without looking up.

"That is correct," Grandma replied.

The clerk clicked her mouse a few times and frowned at the glowing screen.

"I am sorry, ma'am, but you do not own that property anymore."

My stomach dropped straight into my shoes.

"What are you talking about?" I demanded loudly.

The clerk turned the monitor around so we could see the digital document.

"A quitclaim deed was filed and expedited yesterday afternoon."

Grandma leaned forward to look at the blurry digital signature on the screen.

"Who is the current registered owner of the house?" she asked with a dangerously low voice.

The clerk pointed to a highlighted line of text at the bottom of the page.

"The deed was transferred to a corporate holding company called Mercer Enterprises."

I felt all the blood rush completely out of my face.

Mercer Enterprises was the fake shell company my father had created five years ago.

"He stole the house," I whispered in absolute disbelief.

Grandma reached into her coat pocket and touched the old envelope she had shown me earlier.

"If he legally transferred the deed yesterday, then what is this document in my pocket?" she asked.

The clerk squinted at the piece of paper Grandma placed on the counter.

"That is a completely worthless piece of paper," the clerk stated flatly.

My phone began to vibrate violently in my pocket again.

I pulled it out and saw a text message from my mother.

When my newborn 'passed away,' my mother-in-law leaned in and said

My Husband Left Me Alone in My Car While I Was in Labor

“You’re Dead When We Get Home,” He Snapped

The message contained a single photograph that made my heart completely stop.

It was a picture of my apartment door, kicked wide open and hanging off its hinges.

Chapter 1 - The Courthouse Discovery