Chapter 2 - Strangers in My Parents’ House
Dad grabbed my arm.
“Move.”
The urgency in his voice shocked me.
We crossed behind the hydrangeas just as the back door opened.
Light spilled across the yard.
Derek stepped outside.
He stood there barefoot, wearing dark pants and an open-collar shirt, scanning the garden.
“Dad?”
Manuel’s hand tightened around my wrist.
Neither of us moved.
“Dad?” Derek called again.
A pause.
Then Veronica appeared behind him.
“What is it?”
“I thought I heard something.”
“It’s probably that cat.”
“There hasn’t been a cat around here in years.”
Veronica folded her arms.
“Well, I’m not walking through wet grass in these shoes.”
Derek stared toward the garden another few seconds.
Then he went inside.
The door closed.
Dad exhaled.
“Come with me.”
He led me toward the far side of the property where an old wooden workshop stood beneath two cedar trees.
The workshop had been Dad’s kingdom when we were kids.
Nobody touched his tools without permission.
Not even Mom.
Now the windows were dusty.
The padlock was gone.
Dad pushed open the door.
Moonlight fell across empty shelves.
“Where’s your equipment?”
He didn’t answer.
“Dad?”
“Derek sold most of it.”
My stomach tightened.
“Why?”
“He said I wasn’t using it anymore.”
“You still build furniture.”
“I did.”
He sat on an old stool.
For the first time, I got a good look at him.
He had lost weight.
His cheeks had hollowed.
There was a bruise near his wrist.
I noticed it immediately.
“What happened there?”
He pulled his sleeve down.
“Nothing.”
“That isn’t nothing.”
“I bumped into a shelf.”
“You don’t have shelves anymore.”
He looked away.
The silence told me more than an answer.
I crouched in front of him.
“Dad, tell me everything.”
He shook his head.
“Not tonight.”
“Why did Mom call me?”
“Because she knew you’d do exactly what you’re doing.”
“What am I doing?”
“Getting involved.”
“They put you in a storage room.”
“Keep your voice down.”
“You’re sleeping behind the laundry shed!”
His eyes flashed.
“I know where I sleep.”
The anger surprised me.
Then I realized it wasn’t directed at me.
It was humiliation.
I lowered my voice.
“How long?”
He rubbed his hands together.
“Six weeks.”
“And before that?”
“The guest room.”
“That house has four bedrooms.”
“Not anymore.”
“What does that mean?”
“Veronica converted your old room into an office. Derek uses his old room. The big guest room is theirs now.”
“Their room?”
Dad nodded.
I stared at him.
“Where were you and Mom?”
“At first, our bedroom.”
“At first?”
His eyes lowered.
“Then Veronica said the stairs were dangerous for us.”
My parents’ bedroom was upstairs.
“So they moved you out for safety?”
“That’s what they said.”
“Who owns the house?”
He didn’t answer.
“Dad.”
His jaw tightened.
“I thought we did.”
That sentence was worse than anything else.
“What did you sign?”
His face changed.
“I don’t know.”
“How can you not know?”
“Because I trusted my son.”
I stood up.
Derek.
My brother.
The man who had eaten at the same kitchen table.
The man Dad had bailed out of debt twice.
The man Mom defended every time anyone said he was irresponsible.
“What did he tell you the papers were?”
“Estate planning.”
“When?”
“Last year.”
“Who prepared them?”
“A man Veronica knew.”
“Lawyer?”
“He said he was.”
“Name?”
Dad shook his head.
“I can’t remember.”
“Did you have your own attorney?”
“No.”
“Were the papers notarized?”
“I think so.”
“You think?”
“I was in the hospital around then, Adrian.”
That stopped me.
“What hospital?”
“Saint Gabriel.”
“For what?”
“My blood pressure.”
Nobody had told me.
“Why didn’t you call?”
“Derek said you were traveling.”
I wasn’t.
“Dad, I was in my office three hours away.”
“He told us you were in Europe.”
My anger sharpened.
“I haven’t been to Europe in two years.”
Dad closed his eyes.
“I know that now.”
My phone vibrated.
Inez.
I answered immediately.
“What did you find?”
“A lot.”
Her tone had changed.
She was no longer annoyed about working Friday night.
“Talk.”
“The house title is complicated.”
“How complicated?”
“Your parents bought the property jointly decades ago. Clean title. No mortgage.”
“I know.”
“Eight months ago, a deed was recorded transferring a fifty-one-percent interest to a company.”
I looked at Dad.
“What company?”
“VD Residential Holdings.”
V.
D.
Veronica.
Derek.
My grip tightened around the phone.
“Who owns it?”
“Derek and Veronica.”
Dad covered his face.
I continued.
“Did my parents sign the deed?”
“That’s where it gets interesting. Yes, technically. But the signature pages were attached to documents described elsewhere as estate restructuring.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning I want originals before I accuse anyone of fraud.”
“Anything else?”
“Oh, yes.”
She took a breath.
“Two powers of attorney. Broad financial authority. One for each parent.”
“To whom?”
“Derek.”
“When?”
“Same period.”
Dad’s shoulders collapsed.
“And the accounts?”
“Your monthly transfers go into an account you believed belonged jointly to Manuel and Carmen.”
“Yes.”
“It did.”
“Did?”
“Derek was added as authorized agent using the power of attorney. In eight months, more than twenty-nine thousand dollars moved out.”
“Where?”
“Multiple places. Credit-card payments. Vehicle lease. A private club. Two transfers to VD Residential Holdings.”
I stared toward the house.
“That money was for my parents.”
“I know.”
“Freeze anything linked to me.”
“Already done.”
“Can Derek touch what’s left?”
“Not from the account you fund. I contacted the bank’s fraud desk under your authority as originating account holder. They’ve placed a temporary restriction pending review.”
“Good.”
“Adrian, there’s more.”
Dad slowly looked up.
“What?”
“Your parents have another account.”
“I know about their checking.”
“Not checking. A certificate account opened thirty-one years ago.”
Dad suddenly stood.
“No.”
Inez heard him.
“Who was that?”
“My father.”
Dad stared at me.
“What did she say?”
I put the call on speaker.
Inez continued carefully.
“The account appears to be connected to something called the Alvarez Family Reserve.”
Dad closed his eyes.
“How much?”
I asked.
“Current value is difficult to confirm tonight.”
“How much, Inez?”
“Based on the most recent filing I can access, at least six hundred and forty thousand dollars.”
I stared at my father.
Six hundred and forty thousand.
My parents reused plastic grocery bags.
Dad wore the same winter coat for fifteen years.
Mom compared the prices of canned tomatoes.
“Dad?”
He didn’t respond.
Inez spoke.
“Adrian, do you know anything about this?”
“No.”
But Dad did.
I could see it.
He reached into his pocket.
Pulled out the rusty key.
“That’s what this is about,” he whispered.
I ended the call after telling Inez to keep digging.
Then I turned to him.
“You have more than half a million dollars?”
“No.”
“She just said—”
“That money isn’t mine the way you think.”
“Then whose is it?”
“Ours. Yours. Derek’s. Your mother’s.”
I stared at him.
“I don’t understand.”
Dad looked around the empty workshop.
“Years ago, when my furniture business started making money, your mother and I put something aside.”
“How much?”
“At first? Fifty dollars a week.”
“That doesn’t become six hundred thousand.”
“No.”
He looked toward the house.
“But other things did.”
“What other things?”
Dad held up the key.
“I found something when we renovated this property thirty-eight years ago.”
My breath slowed.
“What?”
“Documents.”
“What documents?”
He hesitated.
“Land documents.”
“For this house?”
“For much more than this house.”
I waited.
“The old owner,” Dad continued, “was a man named Rafael Carmona. He had no children. The property around here used to belong to his family.”
“Most of this neighborhood?”
Dad nodded.
“When we bought this parcel, Rafael was already sick. He liked your mother. He liked that I was rebuilding the place instead of demolishing it.”
“What happened?”
“He gave me something to keep safe.”
“The key?”
“The key came later.”
“What did he give you?”
“A sealed packet.”
“What was inside?”
Dad looked at me.
“An ownership agreement involving land that developers later built on.”
I frowned.
“That would’ve been worth millions.”
“It would be now.”
“And you never used it?”
“It wasn’t mine to exploit.”
“Then what did you do?”
“Rafael had conditions.”
Of course he did.
“What conditions?”
Dad sat again.
“He wanted proceeds from certain leases to fund families who had worked his land. He had watched people lose everything as property values rose.”
“So the Reserve account…”
Dad nodded.
“Small payments at first. Then larger ones.”
“Why does your name control it?”
“Because Rafael trusted me.”
“And now Derek knows.”
“Not everything.”
“What does he know?”
“He found old tax papers.”
“When?”
“Almost a year ago.”
“And he’s been searching since?”
Dad looked at the rusty key.
“Yes.”
“What does this key open?”
“A box.”
“Where?”
His eyes met mine.
“That’s what I haven’t told Derek.”
A sound behind us made us both turn.
The workshop door moved.
Slowly.
Then stopped.
Someone was outside.
I stepped toward it.
Dad caught my arm.
A shadow passed beneath the door.
Then a voice came from the darkness.
My mother.
“Manuel?”
Dad rushed to open it.
Mom stood there trembling.
When she saw me, both hands flew to her mouth.
“Adrian.”
I expected relief.
Instead, she started crying.
“You shouldn’t have come.”
I hugged her.
She clung to me.
Then she whispered directly into my ear.
“Derek knows the key is still here.”
I pulled back.
“How?”
Her eyes moved toward the house.
“Because tonight I heard Veronica say they’re going to tear the garden apart tomorrow morning.”
May you like
And suddenly we no longer had days to solve this.
We had hours.
