Chapter 8 - The House He Tried to Take
I called the real estate agent before Daniel could finish carrying in the second box.
Her name was Denise Palmer.
She sounded confused when I identified myself.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Daniel told me his wife had relocated.”
“Relocated where?”
“Permanently.”
I looked at Rachel.
“Did he say we were divorcing?”
A pause.
“Yes.”
“And what exactly are you doing at my house?”
Another pause.
“He asked me to provide a market valuation.”
I laughed once.
Not because anything was funny.
Because Daniel’s arrogance had finally become absurd.
“Check the county deed.”
“I—”
“Check it now.”
Rachel was already sending her a copy.
Thirty seconds later Denise’s tone changed completely.
“I’m leaving the property.”
“Good.”
“I was told Daniel was a co-owner.”
“He is not.”
“I understand.”
Through the security feed, I watched Denise walk directly past Daniel.
He followed her toward the driveway, gesturing angrily.
Then he looked up at the camera.
For a moment, he stared straight into it.
He knew I was watching.
He smiled.
That smile scared me more than his shouting ever had.
My phone rang immediately.
“Enjoying the show?” he asked.
“You brought an agent to my house.”
“Our house.”
“No.”
“We’re married.”
“That doesn’t rewrite the deed.”
“You really think a piece of paper means I contributed nothing?”
“You tried to forge a piece of paper yesterday. So apparently you think paper matters.”
Silence.
Then Daniel lowered his voice.
“You’ve been talking to Marcus.”
I did not answer.
“He’s a thief.”
“So are you.”
“You don’t understand what he did.”
“Then explain it.”
“I’m not discussing business over the phone.”
“Because calls can be saved?”
He hung up.
An hour later, something new appeared online.
Daniel posted a long message on social media.
He never used my name.
He didn’t need to.
He wrote about “marital abandonment.”
About a wife who left during a family medical emergency.
About the difficulty of caring for an aging parent while dealing with a spouse suffering from “severe emotional instability.”
Friends began messaging me.
Some supportive.
Some confused.
One asked whether I was getting help.
For ten minutes, rage took over.
I wanted to respond publicly.
I wanted to post the forged signature.
The shell company.
The camera footage.
Every ugly detail.
Rachel stopped me.
“Let him talk.”
“Why?”
“Because every lie he publishes becomes something he may have to explain later.”
So I stayed silent.
Daniel mistook silence for weakness.
He always had.
That evening, Lorraine called from the hospital.
“I saw what he wrote.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Why are you apologizing?”
Habit.
Six years of it.
Lorraine spoke again.
“I told the nurse I need my phone.”
“Okay.”
“There’s a recording on it.”
I straightened.
“What recording?”
“From two weeks ago.”
Lorraine explained that Daniel had visited her condo late one evening.
They argued.
He wanted her to move into my house immediately.
She refused at first.
“I recorded him because he was frightening me,” she said.
My anger disappeared.
“What did he say?”
“I don’t remember every word.”
“Send it to Rachel.”
“I will.”
Then Lorraine hesitated.
“There’s something on it you need to hear yourself.”
An hour later, the file arrived.
Daniel’s voice came first.
Sharp.
Impatient.
Then Lorraine’s.
I listened through several minutes of argument until Daniel said the sentence that changed everything again.
“She doesn’t need to know what I’m doing. She needs to sign what I put in front of her.”
Lorraine asked, “And if she refuses?”
Daniel laughed.
“She won’t.”
“How do you know?”
“Because she still thinks this marriage is real.”
A long silence followed.
Then Lorraine asked another question.
“And after you get the house money?”
Daniel’s answer was quiet.
May you like
But perfectly clear.
“Then I finally get rid of her.”
