Chapter 4 - The Web Ensnaring Nolan
The front door slammed shut as Detective Thorne led Marlene out into the cool morning air, leaving me alone in the wrecked library with my husband.
Nolan dropped to his knees on the hardwood floor, surrounded by the folders and guest lists his mother had scattered during her frantic search for my father's papers.
“Brielle,” he choked out, tears finally spilling down his face as he looked up at me from the ground.
“I didn't know about the three million, I swear to God I didn't know she was stealing from the firm.”
“But you knew about the house, Nolan,” I said, looking down at him without a single drop of sympathy left in my heart.
“You knew she was forging my name while I was hooked up to a ventilator, and you stood by and watched her do it because you thought it would save your skin.”
“I was scared!” he cried, reaching out to grab the hem of my sweatpants, but I stepped back, forcing him to lose his balance.
“My mother told me the company would collapse if we didn't get the leverage from your father’s property deeds,” he whispered, his voice trembling against the floor.
“My father built this house so I would always have a place where nobody could hurt me,” I said, my voice dropping into a quiet, sacred register.
“He warned me about people like you, Nolan; people who look at beautiful things and only wonder how much they can sell them for.”
I walked over to the open wall safe, reached inside the dark metal box, and pulled out a small piece of paper that Marlene had missed during her hurried raid.
It was the original title insurance policy, signed by my father three weeks before his death, containing a strict anti-transfer clause that voided any debt placed against the property without a notarized, in-person signature from me.
Marlene’s expensive catering contracts weren't just fraudulent; they were legally non-binding against the estate itself.
Nolan looked at the paper in my hand, the realization of his mother’s absolute failure hitting him like a physical blow.
“The $250,000 debt belongs to Marlene and the logistics firm, Nolan,” I said, looking down at my hospital bracelet one last time before pulling a pair of scissors from the desk drawer.
May you like
With a sharp snip, the white plastic band fell to the floor, landing right next to the gold letters that read HAPPY 70TH.
“And by tomorrow morning,” I whispered, “you won't even own the shirt on your back.”
