The smell of disinfectant.
Then Margaret showed me something else.
“The sale price also concerns me.”
“Why?”
“Comparable homes nearby are worth considerably more than two hundred fifty thousand dollars.”
My anger sharpened.
Dominic hadn’t only taken my house.
He may have rushed it away for far less than its actual value.
“What happens next?”
“We preserve the evidence, notify the appropriate authorities if the document alteration is confirmed, pursue civil remedies, and make sure your remaining assets are protected.”
“He’s in Europe spending the money.”
Margaret’s mouth tightened.
“Then his financial records may become very important.”
Dorothy squeezed my hand.
“This is going to work.”
But I was beginning to think beyond simply recovering what had been taken.
Dominic had dismissed me.
He had humiliated me.
He had placed me in Sunset Manor and flown overseas before I had even unpacked.
He believed I would quietly accept whatever happened.
I wanted something more than a legal victory.
I wanted my life back.
And I wanted him to understand what it meant to underestimate me.
“When does he need to know about the case?” I asked.
Margaret looked at me carefully.
“Eventually he will be formally notified.”
“He’ll be gone almost three months.”
An idea was taking shape.
“Then let him enjoy Europe for a little while longer.”
Dorothy glanced at me.
Margaret raised an eyebrow.
“What are you thinking?”
I smiled.
“I’m thinking I have some arrangements to make.”
—
The following morning, I visited the bank.
Mr. Curtis had known Harold and me for more than twenty years.
By the time I finished explaining what Dominic had done, his face was red.
“Mrs. Mitchell, that’s outrageous.”
He pulled up my records.
“Your individual savings and certificates are untouched. Combined, you have roughly eighty-five thousand dollars that Dominic cannot access.”
More than enough to begin rebuilding my independence.
“I want everything secured,” I said.
“We can do that.”
“And I want to discuss estate planning and a trust.”
He nodded.
“Probably wise under the circumstances.”
By the time I left, my finances were separated from anything Dominic might reach.
I opened a new checking account.
Changed mailing arrangements.
Updated beneficiaries.
And began discussing long-term protections for my property.
My next visit was to Linda Hayes, a real estate professional Harold and I had worked with years earlier.
When she saw me, she immediately stood.
“Mrs. Mitchell, I heard what happened. I’m so sorry.”
“I need your help.”
“With the house?”
“With more than the house.”
Over the following weeks, Linda helped me examine legitimate real estate opportunities in my old neighborhood.
