Chapter 10 - WHOSE HOUSE IS THIS?
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I looked around the table at the twelve guests who were now staring at us in rapt attention.
“Does everyone sitting at this table believe that this house belongs to Brandon and Vanessa?” I asked calmly.
Silence fell over the room.
Rachel looked deeply uncomfortable, clearing her throat and staring down at her napkin.
Finally, one of Vanessa’s socialite friends—a woman in a bright yellow silk dress—cleared her throat and spoke up.
“Well… yes,” the friend said hesitantly. “Vanessa told us they bought the estate a few years ago. She was just telling us about the custom kitchen renovations they paid for.”
Another guest, a man from Brandon’s firm, nodded slowly. “That was my understanding as well.”
I turned my eyes back toward Vanessa.
“Did you tell them that, Vanessa?”
Vanessa stood up abruptly, her chair screeching violently against the floorboards. Her face was flushed bright red.
“This is absolutely absurd!” she shrieked, pointing a manicured finger at me. “I will not be interrogated in my own dining room!”
“Sit down,” I said. My voice was lower than hers, but it carried ten times the authority.
“You don’t order me around in my house!” she raged, her voice escalating into a shrill scream.
I almost smiled. It was almost tragic how deeply she believed her own lie.
I reached into my bag a second time.
Earlier that afternoon, while Vanessa was out getting her hair done, I had printed out the certified public records from the county registrar’s office. But I didn't need the printouts.
I reached into the inner lining of my jacket and pulled out a heavy, legal document stamped with an official gold seal—the original deed that had been sitting safely in my locked suitcase since I landed at the airport.
I slid the heavy parchment onto the table, right on top of the red folder.
Rachel’s eyes widened instantly. As a high-end real estate agent, she recognized the official state seal immediately.
Vanessa did not. She just stared at it like it was a piece of trash.
“Would anyone like to read the owner’s name on the deed?” I asked quietly, looking around the table.
Nobody moved. The air in the room was so thick you could cut it with a knife.
Finally, Rachel leaned forward. Her professional curiosity overcame her awkwardness. She adjusted her glasses, her eyes scanning down the official legal document until they stopped at the line labeled GRANTOR / GRANTEE.
Rachel froze. She blinked once. Twice.
May you like
Then she raised her head and looked directly at me, her expression filled with utter shock.
“Elaine Carter,” Rachel read aloud. “Sole owner.”
