Chapter 9 - The Mortgage That Wasn't Hers
The loan was larger than any amount Grandma had knowingly provided to the business.
It was secured, at least on paper, by interests Richard claimed to control in the industrial property.
The lender had relied on representations that now appeared disputed.
Elias cautioned us that the exact enforceability of those documents would depend on title records, signatures and the lender's diligence.
Grandma listened carefully.
"Can they take the building?"
"We will act promptly to protect your position," he answered.
"I won't promise an outcome before we've examined the documents."
I admired him for telling her the truth instead of soothing her with certainty.
Priya compared the financing file with Grandpa's ledger and discovered that Dad had described the money as working capital for equipment expansion.
But the company's bank statements showed large transfers into Red Elm shortly after the loan funded.
Monica had then paid several personal obligations from Red Elm accounts.
Richard had also made a substantial payment to an investor named Victor Sloane.
No one had mentioned Sloane before.
A public records search linked him to a series of distressed business acquisitions.
The more we learned, the more it looked as though Dad had placed himself under obligations he could not meet without gaining control of Grandma's building.
Ruth read the documents at the kitchen table and shook her head.
"They didn't just want her money," she said.
"They needed her to be unable to say no."
The idea stayed with me.
The trip had made Grandma feel loved.
The airport humiliation had made her feel foolish.
If she returned home frightened enough, would she have signed anything Dad put in front of her just to recover his approval?
It was a cruel strategy.
But it also explained why Dad had been so angry that I stayed behind.
I was not supposed to be there when Grandma began asking questions.
That night Blake appeared unexpectedly at the house.
He stood on the porch with his hands in his pockets.
Ruth watched from the hall while I answered the door.
"I need to talk to Grandma," he said.
"Why?"
"Because Aaron is turning everybody against me."
"Did you take files to the warehouse office?"
He looked away.
"Uncle Richard told me they were outdated."
"Did you start the fire?"
"No."
The answer came fast enough to sound rehearsed.
But then he added something that confused me.
"I tried to put it out."
I stared at him.
"What do you mean?"
He glanced back toward his car.
"I went there to move the records. I saw smoke before I got the cabinet open."
"Why didn't you tell the investigator?"
"Because Mom said I'd be arrested."
I told him he needed independent legal advice and should speak truthfully with the investigator.
He nodded, trembling.
Then he produced a folded sheet of paper.
"I found this stuck behind one of the cabinets."
It was a partial invoice from a security contractor.
An emergency service visit had been scheduled for the night of the fire.
The authorizing contact was Victor Sloane.
Blake looked close to tears.
"I don't think Uncle Richard knows who he's dealing with."
Before I could respond, headlights flashed across our driveway.
A dark vehicle slowed in front of the house, then drove away.
Blake watched it go.
May you like
"That's the third time that car has followed me today," he whispered.
