Chapter 2: The Man Who Sold What He Didn't Own
For several seconds, I couldn't speak.
Felicia stood beside the breakfast table, holding my attorney's document as though she could tear it in half and make the problem disappear.
I reached for my phone.
“I'm calling Daniel.””
She grabbed my wrist.
“Don't.””
I looked down at her hand.
“Let go.””
“Marcus, please. Just listen to me for five minutes.””
“You've had six years to talk to me.””
I pulled my wrist free and called Daniel Reeves, my attorney.
He answered on the third ring.
“Marcus? I was about to call you.””
Those seven words made my stomach tighten.
“Tell me you haven't heard anything about a sale involving my properties.””
There was a pause.
“Which properties?””
“The Atlanta building, the Savannah duplex, and Maya's house.””
Another pause.
Then Daniel's voice changed.
“Where are you right now?””
“At home.””
“Is Felicia with you?””
I glanced at her.
“Yes.””
“Don't sign anything. Don't hand anyone an original document. And don't confront Steven until we've established exactly what he has circulated.””
My fingers tightened around the phone.
“What has he circulated?””
“I received an inquiry yesterday from a commercial brokerage asking whether you had authorized a transaction involving the Atlanta property. They attached a document bearing what they claimed was your signature.””
Felicia sat down abruptly.
I watched her.
“Was it my signature?””
“Not one I could authenticate. I told them no transaction could proceed without proper verification.””
“Why didn't you call me immediately?””
“I intended to. But the broker withdrew the inquiry before I finished reviewing the attachment.””
“Who was the broker?””
“I'm sending you the information now.””
My phone vibrated.
A message appeared with a company name, a contact number, and a scanned document.
I opened the attachment.
At the top was the logo of Bennett Commercial Group.
Below it was a letter purporting to authorize Steven to negotiate the sale of the Atlanta property.
At the bottom was a signature.
My name.
My signature had always been difficult to imitate because I wrote the M in Marcus with a distinctive double stroke. The signature on the document had the right shape but the wrong rhythm.
Someone had copied it from an existing contract.
Someone had also used company letterhead.
“Daniel,” I said quietly, “this isn't authorized.””
“I know.””
“Could it be a preliminary draft?””
“It could be presented that way. But the document states that Steven is authorized to negotiate on your behalf. We need to establish who created it and what representations were made.””
I looked at Felicia.
She had begun rubbing her palms against her pajama trousers.
“Did you know about this document?”” I asked.
She shook her head quickly.
“I knew Steven was talking to people. I didn't know he had a letter.””
“Talking to people about selling a building he doesn't own?””
“He said it was temporary.””
“Temporary?””
“He wanted to secure an investment. He thought he could use the proceeds from the transaction to build something of his own.””
I stared at her.
“You just described selling property that doesn't belong to him.””
“He planned to make everything right!””
“With what money?””
She didn't answer.
I turned back to Daniel.
“Preserve everything you have. Send me copies of every document. Contact the broker and tell them no transaction is authorized.””
“I've already instructed them not to proceed. I'll send a formal notice as well.””
“Good. And Daniel?””
“Yes?””
“Find out whether this extends beyond the Atlanta property.””
“I intend to.””
When the call ended, Felicia reached for my hand.
I moved away.
“Marcus, I never wanted things to go this far.””
“Then why did you put three deeds on my breakfast table?””
She swallowed.
“Steven told me that if you signed the transfers, everything would become legitimate.””
I felt a cold pressure building behind my eyes.
“He wanted me to sign away property so he could pretend he hadn't lied about owning it.””
“He said the buyers wouldn't lose anything.””
“That isn't the point.””
“I know.””
“No, Felicia. You don't.””
I walked to the window.
Across the street, a neighbor was loading groceries into the back of a minivan. A child in a blue school uniform was chasing a rolling backpack down the driveway.
Life continued.
Meanwhile, my stepson had apparently been negotiating the sale of assets worth millions of dollars without my permission.
And my wife had known enough to bring me the deeds.
I turned around.
“When did you first hear about the buyers?””
She hesitated.
“Three weeks ago.””
I stared at her.
“Three weeks?””
“He said he'd found investors interested in commercial real estate. He thought they could help him start a development company.””
“And you never asked whether I had authorized him to sell anything?””
“I thought he was discussing a partnership.””
“Then why did you bring me the deeds?””
“Because the investors wanted certainty.””
I laughed once, without humor.
“Certainty.””
Felicia flinched.
“You knew something was wrong.””
“I knew Steven was desperate.””
“Desperate for what?””
She pressed her lips together.
I waited.
Finally, she whispered, “He owes money.””
“How much?””
“I don't know.””
“Felicia.””
“I don't know exactly!””
Her voice rose, then collapsed.
“He said it started with an investment. He said he could recover everything if he had enough capital.””
“What investment?””
She shook her head.
“Cryptocurrency. A private fund. Something one of his friends recommended. I never understood all the details.””
I closed my eyes briefly.
This was no longer simply a question of entitlement.
It was a question of how much damage Steven had already caused, and whether he was trying to escape it by using my family's property as collateral.
“Why didn't you tell me?””
“Because you would have fired him.””
“If he misused company resources, I might have.””
“He said you would destroy his life.””
I looked directly at her.
“Has it occurred to you that he might be destroying his own?””
Felicia's face crumpled.
“He's my son, Marcus.””
“And I am your husband.””
She looked at the floor.
“I thought I could fix it before you found out.””
“How?””
“By convincing you to transfer the properties.””
“So your solution was to make me an accomplice without telling me why?””
“I wasn't trying to hurt you.””
“You were willing to put my daughter at risk.””
She began crying, but I couldn't bring myself to comfort her.
I walked to the hallway and called Maya.
She answered with her usual cheerful voice.
“Dad? You're calling early. Everything okay?””
I looked back at Felicia.
“No, sweetheart. I need you to do something for me.””
“What happened?””
“Have you received any messages from a real estate agent or anyone claiming that your house is being sold?””
Silence.
Then Maya spoke again.
“Actually, yes.””
My blood ran cold.
“What did they say?””
“A man called yesterday. He said he represented an investment group interested in acquiring several properties from the Bennett family. He asked whether I would consider accepting an offer for Grandma's house.””
“Did you tell him who owned it?””
“I told him I wasn't selling. Dad, why are you asking me this?””
“Because someone is trying to sell property that doesn't belong to them.””
Her voice dropped.
“Is it Steven?””
I didn't answer immediately.
Maya sighed.
“I knew something was wrong. Two weeks ago, I saw him taking pictures outside the house. He told me you wanted an updated property assessment.””
My stomach tightened.
“Did you believe him?””
“I did. He's your wife's son. I didn't think he'd lie about something like that.””
I looked at Felicia.
She was watching me with frightened eyes.
“Maya, listen carefully. Don't sign anything. Don't agree to meet anyone alone. If someone contacts you again, save the message and tell me.””
“Dad, is my house in danger?””
“I'm going to do everything I legally can to protect it.””
There was a small, painful pause.
“Grandma would be furious.””
I swallowed.
“Yes,” I said.
“She would.””
When we ended the call, Felicia covered her face.
“He said he hadn't contacted Maya.””
“He lied to you, too.””
She lowered her hands.
“Marcus, what are you going to do?””
I looked at the three deeds.
“Find out how far this goes.””
My phone vibrated again.
Daniel had sent another message.
It contained a second document, this one connected to the Savannah duplex.
The file included a proposed purchase agreement, a deposit receipt, and a list of conditions required before closing.
The prospective buyer had already transferred a substantial deposit into an escrow account.
At the bottom of the agreement, beneath a clause describing the seller's authority, was Steven's name.
And beneath that was a statement that made my hands go numb.
*The seller warrants that he has obtained the owner's consent and that no third-party approval is required.*
Steven hadn't merely told people he owned the property.
May you like
He had promised them that I had agreed to sell it.
And if the transaction collapsed, someone was going to demand answers.
