Very much like mine.
But I had never signed that document.
Daniel arrived twenty-six minutes later.
Until then, I refused to discuss anything.
The man introduced himself as Warren Pike.
He claimed to represent Tessa.
That alone nearly made me laugh.
My sister had no income, no assets, and until that morning no apparent awareness that real-estate lawyers existed.
Now she had one.
Daniel walked into my restaurant wearing a dark suit and the expression he reserved for people he already distrusted.
“Who are you?”
“Warren Pike.”
They shook hands.
Barely.
Daniel took the document.
He read it once.
Then again.
“What are you alleging?”
Warren folded his arms.
“My client believes there is an enforceable agreement granting the family permanent occupancy.”
“Based on this?”
“Yes.”
Daniel looked at me.
“Have you seen it before?”
“No.”
Dad was standing behind Warren.
He wouldn’t meet my eyes.
Mom looked completely lost.
Tessa looked triumphant.
“You can’t throw us out,” she said.
Daniel ignored her.
He looked at my father.
“Mr. Mercer, where did this document come from?”
Dad cleared his throat.
“Our records.”
“What records?”
“The house records.”
Daniel’s gaze hardened.
“This appears to be dated after closing.”
“Yes.”
“Where was it executed?”
Dad hesitated.
“At home.”
“Who witnessed it?”
Another pause.
“Friends.”
“Names?”
Dad’s jaw tightened.
“Is this an interrogation?”
“No. An interrogation would be less pleasant.”
Tessa scoffed.
I said nothing.
I was too busy studying the page.
The language stated that I had granted my parents—and strangely, “immediate family descendants”—the right to occupy the property indefinitely.
It also prohibited sale without their written approval.
It was absurd.
I would never sign that.
Not because I expected this day to come.
Because my attorney would never let me.
Daniel knew that too.
He pointed to the bottom.
“This is supposedly Ian’s signature.”
“Yes,” Warren replied.
“And this?”
A notary stamp.
Warren smiled.
“Exactly.”
Daniel took out his phone.
“What are you doing?” Dad asked.
“Calling the notary.”
Dad’s reaction was tiny.
But I saw it.
So did Daniel.
He stopped dialing.
“Do you know her?”
“No.”
“You looked concerned.”
“I’m concerned that my son is evicting us.”
Mom finally spoke.
“Can someone please explain what’s happening?”
Dad turned toward her.
“Nothing.”
“Stop saying that.”
Her voice cracked.
“You signed something?”
Dad sighed.
“Years ago.”
“What?”
“Something to protect us.”
“Protect us from what?”
He didn’t answer.
My mother looked at me.
“Ian?”
“I’ve never seen that document.”
Her mouth opened.
Then closed.
Tessa interrupted.
“Well, somebody signed it.”
I looked at her.
She smiled.
That smile told me she knew more than she was saying.
Daniel folded the paper.
“I’m taking a copy.”
Warren objected.
“You may inspect it here.”
Daniel laughed.
“This is potentially fraudulent evidence being asserted against my client. You’re going to provide a copy.”
The argument lasted three minutes.
Eventually Warren agreed.
Before they left, Tessa leaned close to me.
“You thought you were so smart.”
I stared at her.
“Be careful.”
“Is that a threat?”
“No.”
I glanced at the document.
“That’s advice.”
She walked away.
My parents followed.
Dad paused at the door.
“Ian.”
“What?”
“This doesn’t have to get ugly.”
“It already did.”
After they left, Daniel and I went to my office.
He put the copy on my desk.
“You didn’t sign this?”
“No.”
“You’re certain?”
“Yes.”
“Any chance you signed a stack of documents without reading?”
“No.”
He nodded.
“I believe you.”
“That sounded ominous.”
“It is.”
He zoomed in on a photograph of the notary stamp.
“Name is Patricia Wynn.”
“Know her?”
“No.”
He searched.
Within minutes we found her.
Patricia had been a licensed notary.
Her commission had expired.
Three years ago.
The document was dated four years ago.
So technically the timeline could fit.
Daniel searched further.
Then stopped.
“What?”
“She died.”
“When?”
“Four and a half years ago.”
I stared at him.
The document claiming I signed in front of her was dated four months after her death.
Daniel sat back.
“Well.”
I almost laughed.
“Dad forged it.”
“Don’t jump.”
“She was dead.”
“I agree the document appears impossible. I’m saying we prove who created it.”
I thought about Tessa’s smile.
“What if Dad didn’t?”
Daniel looked at me.
We both reached the same conclusion.
“Tessa.”
He tapped the desk.
“I’m ordering a forensic examination.”
“Do it.”
“And Ian?”
“Yeah?”
“This has crossed into something else.”
“I know.”
The next morning, Melissa held the first private showing.
My parents had been given notice.
Dad objected.
Daniel reminded him of the ownership agreement.
The showing proceeded.
I didn’t attend.
I was running lunch service when Melissa called.
“We have interest.”
“Already?”
“Brookfield is desirable.”
“How serious?”
“One couple wants a second viewing.”
“Good.”
“There’s a complication.”
Of course there was.
“What?”
“Your sister followed the buyers around.”
I rubbed my forehead.
“She did what?”
“She told them the basement floods.”
“It doesn’t.”
“I know.”
“She told them there were termites.”
“There aren’t.”
“I know.”
“She told them someone died in the upstairs bedroom.”
“No one did.”
“I know.”
I closed my eyes.
“Melissa.”
“I’ve documented everything.”
“Thank you.”
“She also told them you stole the house from your parents.”
That landed differently.
“What did the buyers say?”
“They asked questions.”
“What did you tell them?”
“That title is clean.”
“Good.”
“But Ian, occupied properties are messy.”
“I know.”
“She is intentionally interfering with sale.”
“I know.”
“So your attorney needs to handle her.”
“He will.”
That evening, Clare and I sat at our kitchen table.
She had been quiet throughout dinner.
Finally she said, “Your sister texted me.”
“What?”
“She apologized.”
I almost choked.
“Tessa?”
“She said she was emotional.”
“Do you believe her?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Clare gave me a tired smile.
“She asked me to meet her.”
“No.”
“I already told her no.”
I relaxed slightly.
“Then she sent something else.”
Clare handed me her phone.
A photograph.
It showed Dad sitting at a desk.
On the desk was the suspicious occupancy agreement.
Beside it was a laptop.
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