“That yours?” he asked.
Purchase agreement.
My address.
My house.
Buyer: private development firm.
Sale price: $650,000.
“Where did you get this?” I asked.
“Pulled from preliminary filings,” he said. “This was submitted for processing last week.”
Last week.
While I was overseas.
Seller: Richard.
Signature: Richard.
Co-signed by Evelyn.
Then an attached deed bearing my name and another forged signature.
Cleaner than the power of attorney.
Still wrong.
“They don’t own this property,” Dalton said.
“I do,” I replied.
“Through what structure?”
“A revocable trust,” I said. “Transferred by my grandfather.”
His attention sharpened.
“Is it recorded?” he asked.
“Not at the county level,” I said. “Protected. Private.”
Dalton nodded.
“Then they assumed it was still part of the estate,” he said. “Thought they could transfer it clean.”
“They didn’t check.”
“They didn’t know what to check,” he corrected.
Fair.
Morales leaned forward.
“So they forged a deed,” she said. “Attempted to sell a property they don’t legally own while also committing financial fraud using a forged power of attorney.”
Dalton whistled quietly.
“That’s not a mistake,” he said. “That’s a pattern.”
Exactly.
“They planning to pocket the money?” he asked.
I pictured Chloe’s watch and the way she had told me they made my room nice.
“Yes,” I said.
“All of it?”
I nodded.
“All right,” he said. “Then we don’t warn them.”
Morales agreed.
I leaned forward.
“What’s the fastest way to stop this?”
Dalton answered immediately.
“Lis pendens,” he said.
A formal notice of legal dispute tied to the property.
Once filed, the transaction stopped.
