“I solved a problem.”
“You created several.”
He pointed at me.
“This is what you always do.
You turn everything into a legal technicality.”
The man in the suit finally spoke.
“Whether she was using it isn’t relevant.”
Brandon swung toward him.
“Stay out of this.”
“I can’t stay out of it.
I transferred money.”
That caught my attention.
“So you’re the buyer?” I asked.
His eyes shifted.
“Not personally.”
There it was.
My attorney had warned me about that too.
The supposed buyer named in Brandon’s paperwork was not the man standing beside the gate.
The deed listed a company.
When my attorney searched the name during my drive from the airport, he found no meaningful operating history connected to a legitimate real-estate acquisition.
The entity listed on the documents was little more than a name being used for the transaction.
The man in the suit had presented himself to Brandon as the person handling the purchase, but there was no legitimate buyer standing ready to take lawful title to my property.
There couldn’t be.
Brandon had sold rights he did not possess to an entity that had no valid deed to receive them.
That was why I had laughed.
The entire performance—the confidence, the folder, the money, Tessa already imagining herself victorious—had been built around a transaction incapable of delivering the one thing everyone thought had been purchased.
My farmhouse.
The man in the suit rubbed his forehead.
“I was shown copies of documents,” he said.
“I was told Brandon was acting with authority.”
“You were shown what?” my attorney asked through the phone.
The man glanced at Brandon.
Brandon’s expression became a warning.
That was enough for me.
“Open the folder,” I said.
He did.
Inside were copies of emails, a purchase agreement, wiring instructions, and the deed.
My name appeared repeatedly.
My authority did not.
Brandon reached for the folder.
I caught his wrist before he touched it.
“Don’t.”
He froze.
I released him immediately.
“Everything stays exactly where it is.”
Tessa pulled off her sunglasses completely now.
Her face had lost its color.
“Brandon, where is the money?” she asked.
He stared at her.
“You know where it is.”
“I know what you put into the company.
I’m asking whether any of it is left.”
He didn’t answer.
Her voice rose.
“Is any of it left?”
Brandon looked toward the lake instead of at her.
