Chapter 4: The Man Who Wanted Our House
The name Curtis Bell seemed to change the temperature in the room.
Martin asked Darius to explain.
Darius rubbed his palms against his jeans.
“He said he could make the money grow. Mom told me to help him because he was handling the house loan.””
Mom stared at him.
“That's not what I told you.””
“You said he was helping us.””
“I told you to keep the money safe.””
Darius laughed without humor.
“You told me to transfer it.””
Uncle Raymond leaned forward.
“How much did you transfer?””
“Twenty-two thousand.””
Grandma looked at Martin.
“Where did it go?””
Martin asked Darius for the account details.
Darius opened his banking app and showed him the transaction history.
There were several transfers.
Different dates.
Different amounts.
All sent to the same business account.
Martin photographed the screen.
“Do you still have the messages?””
Darius nodded.
He opened a conversation.
Curtis's messages appeared one after another.
The property paperwork is almost complete.
The boy's signature is the final piece.
Your mother knows what she's doing.
Then another message.
Once the refinance clears, everybody gets paid.
My hands began shaking.
Everybody.
Was that why my mother had been acting strangely for months?
Was that why she had started asking me whether I planned to attend college locally?
Why she had told me that moving to another state would be selfish?
Grandma touched my shoulder.
“Baby, breathe.””
I looked at her.
“Was he going to take my house?””
She didn't lie.
“He was trying.””
Mom suddenly stood.
“Curtis never intended to take anything. He was helping me.””
Martin looked up.
“Then why did he ask you to produce a forged beneficiary signature?””
Mom didn't answer.
“Why was money transferred to his business account?””
Still nothing.
Uncle Raymond paced near the fireplace.
“Renee, what have you gotten us into?””
Mom wiped her face.
“I didn't know it would become this serious.””
Grandma looked at her.
“You knew enough to hide it.””
That sentence landed harder than anything else.
Mom turned toward me.
“Malik, sweetheart, I need you to understand something.””
I looked at her.
She approached slowly.
“I was scared. I had bills. I was trying to keep everything together. I thought I could fix it before anyone found out.””
I wanted to believe her.
She was still my mother.
I remembered her sitting beside my bed when I had the flu. I remembered her braiding my hair before school picture day when I was younger. I remembered the nights she worked late and still came home to check whether I had finished my homework.
But I also remembered the way she had grabbed my arm that afternoon.
The way she had pointed at me while everyone watched.
The way she had called me disrespectful for telling the truth.
“Why did you blame me today?”” I asked.
She blinked.
“What?””
“Why did you make me look like the bad person?””
“Malik, that's not—”
“You knew Grandma was coming. You knew she had the papers. Did you think I would tell her about Curtis?””
Mom looked genuinely confused.
“I didn't know you knew about him.””
“I didn't.””
“Then why would you say that?””
I looked at the torn sleeve.
“Because you always blame me when Darius does something.””
Darius lowered his head.
Mom looked away.
For once, nobody defended her.
Martin gathered the documents.
“I recommend that no one contact Curtis directly. We will notify the appropriate financial institutions and request records of the attempted transaction.””
Mom panicked.
“Police?””
Martin didn't answer immediately.
“That's a decision we will discuss with the trust's legal representatives. But the forged document cannot be ignored.””
Grandma nodded.
“Do whatever is necessary to protect Malik.””
Mom looked at her mother.
“You would really report your own daughter?””
Denise's voice trembled slightly.
“I would rather tell the truth about my daughter than watch my grandson lose his future.””
Mom sat down.
Martin asked her to provide the names of every lender she had contacted.
She gave him three.
Then he asked about the second property.
Grandma's face tightened.
“My house?””
Mom nodded.
Martin looked at her.
“Did you also use Ms. Denise Carter's property in the application?””
Mom whispered, “Only as supporting collateral.””
Grandma stood up.
“You had no permission to do that.””
“I thought it would help.””
“You thought you could use my home too?””
Mom covered her face.
Martin made another note.
Then he received a notification on his phone.
He read it twice.
“There's something else.””
Grandma looked at him.
“What?””
“The lender has sent a preliminary notice. Someone attempted to schedule an appraisal of this property for tomorrow morning.””
Mom looked up sharply.
“That was supposed to be canceled.””
Martin's expression hardened.
“Who scheduled it?””
She didn't answer.
Darius slowly raised his hand.
“I did.””
Everyone turned toward him.
He looked terrified.
“Curtis told me to let the appraiser in. He said it was just a formality.””
Grandma's voice became cold.
“Did you give him a key?””
Darius nodded.
Mom closed her eyes.
Martin stood.
“Then we need to secure the property immediately.””
I looked toward the front door.
A black SUV was parked across the street.
A man stood beside it, holding a phone.
He looked toward our house.
Then he smiled.
Darius followed my gaze.
His face drained of color.
May you like
“That's Curtis.””
And the man across the street began walking toward our front door.
