PART 3
I looked at her.
“Your family?”
She hesitated.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“No, Dana. I think you said exactly what you meant.”
My father finally lifted his head.
“Sweetheart, what is happening?”
I turned toward him.
“Dad, I think it’s time you knew everything.”
Marcus threw the documents onto the coffee table.
“You paid for the house, congratulations. But you gave it to your parents. That means they can decide who stays here. We’re family. We have every right to enjoy it.”
I almost laughed.
“Enjoying a family home and advertising it to strangers for $325 a night are two completely different things.”
He rolled his eyes.
“It’s a business opportunity.”
“Whose business?”
He didn’t answer.
I picked up the first document.
“This is a copy of the recorded property deed. It clearly identifies Mom and Dad as the legal owners. Neither you nor Dana has any ownership interest in this property.”
Marcus shrugged.
“So?”
“So you have no authority to rent it, advertise it, collect payments for it, or make decisions about who gets to live here.”
He looked toward Dana.
She was staring at the floor.
But the second document was the one that worried him most.
I placed it on the table.
“This is a notice from the vacation rental platform confirming that the listing was reported for unauthorized use of someone else’s property. I’ve also saved screenshots of the advertisement, the photographs, the booking calendar, and the messages you exchanged with potential guests.”
Marcus’s face turned red.
“You reported us?”
“I reported an unauthorized rental listing for my parents’ property. Yes.”
“You had no right!”
I stared at him.
“Neither did you.”
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then Marcus pointed a finger at me.
“You think because you have money, you can control everybody?”
“No. I think because Mom and Dad own this house, they have the right to decide what happens inside it.”
He laughed.
“Fine. Then let’s ask them. I’m sure they don’t want to throw their grandchildren out.”
That was when my mother finally spoke.
“Marcus, please don’t bring the children into this.”
He turned toward her.
“I’m not bringing them into anything. I’m just saying we have nowhere else to go.”
My mother looked at him with exhausted eyes.
“You told us you were staying for a few days.”
“We needed time to figure things out.”
“Four days ago,” she whispered, “you told me you were only visiting until Sunday.”
Marcus folded his arms.
“Plans changed.”
My father slowly stood up.
It took him a moment because his back had been bothering him, but he managed to straighten his shoulders.
“Marcus,” he said quietly, “I think you should take your family home.”
Marcus stared at him.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
Dana immediately jumped up.
“Dad! You can’t be serious!”
My father looked at her.
“I gave you a home when you were growing up. I gave you food, clothes, school supplies, and everything I could afford. Your mother and I have never asked you to repay us for any of it.”
His voice trembled.
“But this house was supposed to be our home. We wanted somewhere peaceful to spend the years we have left.”
He glanced toward the living room.
“I can’t even sit in my own chair without feeling like I’m bothering someone.”
My mother started crying again.
I wanted to walk over and hug her, but I stayed where I was.
This was something my parents needed to say for themselves.
Dana shook her head.
“So that’s it? You’re choosing a house over your daughter?”
My father looked at her for several seconds.
“No, sweetheart. I’m choosing peace over disrespect.”
Those words seemed to hit her harder than anything I had said.
Marcus grabbed his phone.
“This is ridiculous. We’re not leaving today.”
I looked at him calmly.
“You don’t have to leave this minute. But you need to understand something. Mom and Dad have asked you to go. You have no ownership rights here, and you cannot turn their home into a rental business.”
He stepped closer.
“Are you threatening me?”
“No. I’m telling you the truth.”
Then I picked up my handbag.
“I’ll give you until tomorrow evening to pack your belongings and make arrangements for the children. My parents shouldn’t have to spend another night feeling uncomfortable in their own home.”
Marcus laughed.
“Tomorrow? You think you can set deadlines in someone else’s house?”
I looked directly into his eyes.
“That’s exactly the problem, Marcus. You still don’t understand whose house this is.”
I turned toward my parents.
“Mom, Dad, would you like to come with me for lunch? I brought the cake.”
My mother nodded.
My father picked up his walking stick.
As we walked toward the kitchen, I heard Dana whisper something to Marcus.
I couldn’t make out the words.
But I heard his response clearly.
“Don’t worry. She doesn’t know everything.”
I stopped.
Slowly, I turned around.
“What does that mean?”
Marcus immediately looked away.
Dana grabbed his arm.
“Nothing. Just leave it.”
But I knew there was something else.
Something they hadn’t told me.
And I was beginning to suspect that the rental advertisement was only the beginning.
The next morning, I arrived at my parents’ house at 8:30.
I had barely stepped through the front door when my mother approached me.
She looked frightened.
“Sweetheart, there’s something I need to tell you.”
I put my handbag down.
“What happened?”
She glanced toward the hallway to make sure my father wasn’t nearby.
“Last night, after you left, Marcus and Dana had another argument with us.”
“About what?”
“Money.”
My stomach tightened.
“What money?”
My mother took a deep breath.
“Your father found an envelope in the kitchen drawer. It contained some papers Marcus had left there.”
“What papers?”
She disappeared into the bedroom and returned carrying a brown envelope.
Inside were printed emails, a handwritten list, and several pages containing financial information.
I began reading.
The first page showed estimated rental income from the beach house.
The second page listed projected expenses.
But the third page made my hands go cold.
It contained a proposed arrangement to use the beach property as collateral for a business loan.
I read it twice.
Then I looked at my mother.
“Did Dad sign anything?”
“No. He refused.”
“Did Marcus ask him to?”
She nodded.
“He told your father that since the house was valuable, it would be foolish not to use it to get money for a new business.”
I felt a wave of anger rise inside me.
“How much?”
My mother pointed to the figure written on the page.
$180,000.
I sat down.
Marcus hadn’t simply wanted to live in the house.
He had plans to use its value to finance his own business.
“Mom, did you know about this?”
“No. Your father told me last night. He said Marcus kept insisting that it was just a formality.”
I carefully placed the papers back inside the envelope.
“Did Dad sign anything at all?”
“No, sweetheart. He said he wouldn’t sign a document without understanding it.”
I felt relieved.
At least my father had protected himself.
But there was still something bothering me.
The papers contained a reference number and the name of a financial company.
I took a photograph of the document and called my attorney, Helen.
She had helped me complete the original property purchase and had handled the legal paperwork.
When I explained what I had discovered, she became unusually quiet.
“Did your parents authorize anyone to borrow against the property?”
“No.”
“Have they signed any power of attorney documents?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Then send me the photographs. I’ll check the public property records and contact the appropriate parties.”
I sent everything.
About twenty minutes later, my phone rang.
It was Helen.
“I need you to listen carefully,” she said.
“What’s wrong?”
“The property records currently show your parents as the owners. I don’t see any recorded mortgage against the house. That’s good.”
I exhaled.
“Then we’re okay?”
“For now. But there’s something else.”
“What?”
“The rental advertisement was created using an account associated with Dana’s email address. And the contact information listed for prospective guests includes a phone number belonging to Marcus.”
I wasn’t surprised.
But Helen continued.
“There’s also a document circulating that appears to be a draft authorization signed by your father. It gives Marcus permission to manage the property.”
My heart stopped.
“What?”
“It’s not recorded, and I cannot confirm its authenticity. But I want your father to see it immediately. He needs to tell us whether he signed it.”
I looked toward the living room.
My father was sitting in his recliner, reading the newspaper.
I walked over.
“Dad, I need to ask you something.”
He folded the newspaper.
“Of course.”
I showed him the document Helen had sent.
He stared at it.
Then he shook his head.
“I never signed that.”
I felt a chill run down my back.
“Are you absolutely sure?”
He looked directly at me.
“Your mother and I never gave Marcus permission to manage this house.”
I took a closer look.
There was a signature at the bottom that looked similar to my father’s handwriting.
But something was wrong.
The date was from the previous week.
That was before my parents had even received the final property documents.
I immediately photographed it and sent it to Helen.
Then my father said something that changed everything.
“There’s another thing you should know.”
I turned toward him.
