Chapter 5 - THE PRICE OF FAVORITISM
I did not call my father that night.
I wanted to.
I wanted to ask him how much my house had been worth to him before it became worth more than his grandson's dignity.
I wanted to ask whether he had thought about Eli while signing bank forms.
I wanted to ask whether he had thought about Zoe when he raised his beer to Jenna's toast.
But Camille told me not to make a call I could not take back.
So I waited until morning.
At eight-thirty, I sat in Camille's conference room in Santa Monica.
She was forty-eight, sharp-eyed, and incapable of pretending nonsense was complicated merely because relatives were involved.
A stack of documents sat between us.
Ava joined by video.
A forensic accountant named Priya Shah sat beside Camille with two laptops open.
The first screen showed the fake LLC.
The second showed a timeline.
January: forged coastal property agreement notarized.
March: Mercer Family Coastal LLC formed online.
June: Shoreline Capital began due diligence.
August nineteenth: home equity application submitted.
August twenty-third: Shoreline wired two hundred seventy-five thousand dollars.
August twenty-fourth: Jenna and Mark moved into my cottage.
August twenty-fifth: Jenna attempted to change my keypad.
That was yesterday.
I stared at the sequence until it stopped looking like dates and started looking like intent.
"They did not come for a weekend," I said.
Priya shook her head.
"Not if these records are authentic."
"Why move in at all?"
"Possession creates photographs."
"What?"
"Investors ask questions."
She turned one laptop toward me.
On the screen was a glossy investor presentation for something called Mercer Coast Retreats.
There were photographs of my cottage.
My patio.
My kitchen.
My ocean view.
One slide described Jenna and Mark as second-generation owners preparing the property for luxury short-term rental expansion.
Another claimed the home had been in the Mercer family for seventeen years.
I had owned it for four.
A photograph showed Jenna standing on my porch holding a champagne bottle.
My parents stood beside her.
The caption read FOUNDING FAMILY AT MALIBU FLAGSHIP.
I felt physically ill.
"Where did you get this?"
"Shoreline's attorney sent it after the bank contacted them," Priya said.
"They believe they were defrauded."
"How much did they agree to invest?"
"Up to nine hundred thousand dollars if title cleared."
The number sat in the room like smoke.
Camille folded her hands.
"Daryl, I need you to understand why your parents matter here."
"I understand."
"No."
Her voice was gentle but firm.
"Emotionally, you understand betrayal. Legally, we need to understand their role."
Priya opened another file.
"Your father signed a personal guarantee stating he had authority to speak for the Mercer family's interest in the cottage."
"He had no authority."
"Correct."
"My mother?"
"She appears in emails but not on the Shoreline agreement."
"What emails?"
Camille looked at me.
"We should hear that from them."
At ten o'clock, my parents arrived with Jenna.
I had not invited Jenna.
Camille had invited only my parents.
Jenna walked into the reception area anyway wearing white pants, sunglasses, and the expression of someone attending a meeting she expected to dominate.
Mark was not with her.
"He had business," she said before anyone asked.
Camille stepped into the doorway.
"This meeting is not for you."
Jenna removed her sunglasses.
"It concerns me."
"It concerns your parents' exposure."
"Their exposure is my exposure."
Camille's face did not change.
"That sentence is exactly why you are waiting outside."
Jenna looked past her at me.
"Seriously?"
I said nothing.
She smiled without warmth.
"You think a lawyer is going to turn Mom and Dad against me?"
My father spoke behind her.
"Jenna. Enough."
She turned.
For the first time, I saw fear move across her face.
It disappeared instantly.
"Fine."
She dropped into a chair in the reception area.
"I'll wait."
Camille closed the conference-room door.
My parents sat across from me.
My mother would not look at the investor presentation.
My father stared at it too long.
"Where is Mark?" Camille asked.
"At work," my mother said.
Priya glanced at her notes.
"Mr. Halpern's construction company lost its contractor bond three months ago."
My mother's head snapped up.
"What?"
That reaction was real.
My father looked at her.
"Linda."
She turned to him.
"You knew?"
He did not answer.
A small piece of the scheme shifted into place.
Camille leaned forward.
"Robert, did Mark tell you his business was in financial trouble?"
My father rubbed his palms together.
"He said cash flow was tight."
"How tight?"
"I don't know."
Priya spoke.
"His company has three judgments totaling three hundred twelve thousand dollars."
My mother went white.
"That can't be right."
"It is."
"Jenna said they were expanding."
"They were borrowing."
I finally spoke.
"Against my house."
My father's jaw hardened.
"The plan was temporary."
There it was.
Not denial.
Not confusion.
A justification.
Camille's voice became very quiet.
"What plan?"
My father looked at me.
"Jenna needed help."
"So you forged my signature?"
"I did not forge it."
"You watched someone forge it."
"That paper was supposed to protect the family."
"From what?"
"From you selling the place every time you got angry."
I stared at him.
"I had never tried to sell it before yesterday."
"You talked about it after your divorce."
"I talked about selling my condo."
My mother whispered, "Robert."
He ignored her.
"You have always had more than Jenna."
I almost laughed.
"I worked more than Jenna."
"There it is."
His palm hit the table.
"That superior attitude."
"I was doing surgery while you claim I was signing your fake agreement."
He leaned back.
"You make more in a month than Mark makes in three."
"So he gets my house?"
"Nobody said that."
Priya turned the investor presentation toward him.
"This says exactly that."
My father stopped talking.
My mother looked at the photographs.
Her lips trembled.
"I didn't know about this."
I looked at her.
"What did you know?"
She rubbed her fingers against the edge of her purse.
"Jenna said the agreement would guarantee they could use the cottage in summer."
"And my signature?"
Tears filled her eyes.
I felt no satisfaction.
"She said you had agreed but were too stubborn to sign after you argued with Robert."
"Did you see me sign?"
"No."
"Yet yesterday you told the deputy I had."
My mother looked down.
"I panicked."
"Eli heard you."
Her face crumpled.
"Daryl."
"He asked if his grandmother lied."
She started crying.
I did not comfort her.
That shocked both of us.
My father stiffened.
"Do not punish your mother."
"I am not punishing anybody."
I slid the fake agreement toward him.
"I am stopping all of you from using my children as acceptable collateral for Jenna's comfort."
He pushed the paper back.
"You don't understand what she is facing."
"Then explain it."
My father looked at the closed door.
Jenna was sitting ten feet beyond it.
"Mark owes people money," he said.
"How much?"
"More than the judgments."
Priya leaned forward.
"How much?"
He swallowed.
"Nearly seven hundred thousand."
My mother made a sound like she had been struck.
"Robert."
He looked at her.
"I was trying to fix it."
"With what?"
He did not answer.
Camille did.
"With Daryl's cottage."
My father looked away.
The conference room became absolutely still.
Before the alert appeared, my mother asked for a break.
Camille led her to a smaller conference room while my father stayed seated across from me.
For several minutes, neither of us spoke.
Priya pretended to review spreadsheets.
I knew she was giving us privacy without leaving me alone with him.
My father finally said, "You think I chose Jenna over you."
"Didn't you?"
"It isn't that simple."
"It keeps becoming simple when money moves."
His eyes hardened.
"Your sister has always needed more help."
"Then help her with what is yours."
"We did."
"And when that wasn't enough, you used mine."
He looked away.
"You make it sound ugly."
"It is ugly."
"I was trying to keep her marriage together."
That was new.
"What does my cottage have to do with her marriage?"
He rubbed his jaw.
"Mark told her if the business failed, he was done."
I stared at him.
"Done with the business?"
My father did not answer.
"Done with the marriage?"
He nodded.
For the first time, Jenna's desperation looked different.
Still not justified.
But larger.
She was not only trying to save a business.
She was trying to buy enough success to keep Mark from leaving.
My father had seen that fear and decided my property was a reasonable price for her stability.
"Did she ask you to choose between us?"
"No."
"Then why did you?"
He looked at me sharply.
"I did not."
"You signed as witness on a paper designed to take control from me."
"I thought you'd forgive us once it worked."
The sentence was so revealing that Priya stopped typing.
My father heard himself too late.
I leaned back.
"Once what worked?"
He looked toward the door where my mother had gone.
"Robert," Camille said from behind him.
She had returned without us noticing.
"I suggest you answer carefully."
My father went silent.
Then my phone buzzed on the table.
It was an automated alert from Los Angeles County's property fraud notification system.
Camille saw my face.
"What?"
I opened the message.
A document had just been submitted for recording against my Malibu parcel.
I tapped the attachment.
The title appeared on the screen.
QUITCLAIM DEED.
Grantor: Daryl Mercer.
Grantee: Jenna Halpern, fifty percent interest.
My signature was already at the bottom.
The submission time was 10:07 a.m.
Seven minutes after Jenna sat down in the lobby outside.
I looked toward the conference-room door.
May you like
Mark had not gone to work.
He had gone to the recorder.
