Chapter 8 - THE HUSBAND MY MOTHER BOUGHT
I laughed.
I couldn’t help it.
It was too absurd for any other reaction.
“You paid my husband to leave me?”
My mother’s expression didn’t change.
“Michael was already leaving.”
“That wasn’t my question.”
“He was cheating.”
“I know.”
“I discovered it before you did.”
“So you paid him?”
“I negotiated.”
Karla whispered:
“Mom, that is insane.”
My mother snapped:
“You know nothing about marriage.”
I leaned forward.
“How much?”
Silence.
“How much did you pay Michael?”
“Forty thousand.”
My stomach turned.
My ex-husband had fought me over a $6,000 savings account during mediation.
Meanwhile, my mother had apparently handed him forty thousand dollars.
“For what?”
“To sign quickly.”
“What else?”
Nothing.
“Mom.”
“He agreed not to pursue the family property.”
I stared.
“What family property?”
“Riverside.”
There it was.
Michael knew the land belonged to me.
I didn’t.
My own husband knew more about my assets than I did.
“Why would he have a claim?”
“He might have argued the appreciation occurred during marriage.”
Martin shook his head.
“That argument would have been weak if the property was inherited separately.”
Mom glared at him.
“We didn’t know what a judge would do.”
“So you paid him.”
“Yes.”
“Using whose money?”
She looked away.
Of course.
Martin checked the accounting documents.
The $40,000 transfer came from D&B Home Restoration.
Money ultimately sourced from debt secured against my property.
I almost admired the cruelty of the structure.
My mother borrowed money using my forged signature.
Then used part of it to pay my husband to leave me.
And somehow I was the parasite.
“Why is his email on Karla Bennett Development?”
Mom finally became nervous.
“That was his idea.”
“What was?”
“Selling Riverside.”
“To a company pretending to belong to Karla?”
“It was supposed to simplify the transaction.”
“For who?”
“For the family.”
I was beginning to hate that word.
Martin asked:
“What was the planned resale?”
My mother didn’t answer.
He pulled another public filing.
A developer named Meridian Commercial Partners had signed a letter of intent to purchase the same land for $3.8 million after rezoning.
The option company would acquire it from me for $1.1 million.
Then flip it.
Potential profit:
$2.7 million.
Karla stared.
“You were using my name to steal almost three million dollars from Laura?”
Mom slammed her hand down.
“I was not stealing.”
“What would you call it?”
“Recovering what this family invested in her.”
The room became silent.
There it was.
The belief underneath everything.
Money spent raising me had become a debt.
Groceries.
School clothes.
A bedroom.
Parenthood transformed into an invoice.
“You think I owe you for being my mother.”
“You have no idea what I sacrificed.”
“I’m sure it was a lot.”
She looked surprised.
I continued.
“But Sophia will never owe me for feeding her.”
Mom flinched.
I thought of the soup.
The noodles swirling down the sink.
Sophia asking why Grandma threw away her dinner.
That moment had started everything.
My phone vibrated.
Michael.
I hadn’t heard from him in two months.
I looked at the screen.
Then at my mother.
She saw the name.
Her face changed.
I answered.
“Laura.”
His voice sounded terrified.
“I need to talk to you.”
“You can talk to my lawyer.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“Laura, your mom lied to me.”
I almost laughed.
“Get in line.”
“She said Riverside was hers.”
Everyone at the table listened.
“She told me it was temporarily in your name because of your dad’s medical debt.”
“What did she ask you to do?”
“Set up the development company.”
“Under Karla’s name?”
“Yes.”
Karla whispered a curse.
Michael continued.
“She said Karla had agreed.”
“She hadn’t.”
“I know that now.”
“What else?”
Silence.
“Michael.”
“I signed your name.”
The room froze.
“On what?”
“The option agreement.”
My mouth went dry.
“So you forged my signature.”
“Yes.”
“Why are you telling me?”
“Because your mother called me this morning.”
Mom stood abruptly.
“Hang up.”
I looked at her.
Michael continued.
“She said Melissa is missing.”
Martin began taking notes.
“And?”
“She thinks Melissa took something.”
“What?”
“A ledger.”
My mother shouted:
“Michael, shut your mouth!”
He heard her.
“Oh, God. She’s there.”
“What ledger?”
He breathed heavily.
“The real one.”
“Real what?”
“The records of every property transaction.”
My father covered his face.
Michael continued.
“Laura, the apartment, Oak Street, Riverside—those aren’t the only properties.”
I stared at Dad.
“How many?”
Michael answered:
“I don’t know.”
“Give me a number.”
“At least nine.”
Nobody moved.
“Nine properties?”
“Maybe more.”
“Owned by who?”
His next sentence made Martin stop writing.
“You.”
My mother lunged for my phone.
Karla blocked her.
May you like
And Michael whispered:
“Laura, I think your mother has been using your identity for more than ten years.”
