Mark would arrive with documents.
Then they would pressure me to surrender control and sell quickly.
Instead of confronting Mark immediately, I decided to let him expose himself.
When Jenna asked whether she and her father could visit for dinner, I invited them over. I told Victor to pretend the mortgage payoff had been delayed, even though the money had already cleared.
Jenna arrived carrying a leather folder. Mark followed with wine and the confident smile he wore whenever he believed everyone else had already lost.
During dessert, Victor announced that the bank still required additional verification and that Briar Lane remained at risk.
Mark reacted instantly.
“Then Claire needs to act now.”
Jenna opened her folder and showed me photographs of the damaged roof, cracked chimney, loose porch boards and water stains above my mother’s old bedroom.
She admitted she had entered the house using her former key.
“Dad said you would hide how bad things were,” she explained.
Mark then pushed two documents across the table. One would give him authority over the sale. The other would appoint his friend as the estate agent.
He had convinced Jenna that the house was already lost and that selling it was the only way to protect her inheritance.
I reached beneath my chair and lifted out a box.
Inside were eleven years of mortgage statements, tax records and repair invoices. There were also six letters I had sent Mark asking him to help with expenses while Jenna still lived at Briar Lane part-time.
Every letter had been returned unopened.
Jenna stared at him.
“You told me Mom rejected your help.”
“She refused to sell,” Mark replied.
“So you lied.”
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