Chapter 8 - The Investor’s Table
The meeting was held in the grand dining room of the apartment.
The table was covered in maps,
contracts,
and expensive bottles of sparkling water.
Two men in sharp,
gray suits sat opposite Gavin and Harriet.
They were the investors from the corridor project.
They looked bored,
as if buying a woman's life's work was just another Tuesday.
"The land is prime,"
one of the investors said,
adjusting his glasses.
"But we need to ensure the title is clean."
"There were rumors of a secondary trust."
Gavin laughed,
the sound hollow and confident.
"Those were just rumors,"
"spread by my wife's unstable brother."
"The deed is right here,"
"signed by my late mother-in-law and my wife."
He tapped the forged document with a gold pen.
Harriet sat beside him,
beaming like a proud queen.
"It’s all perfectly legal,"
she added.
"My son has handled everything with the utmost care."
I stood in the doorway,
wearing the same dress I had worn to the funeral.
"Is that so, Gavin?"
I asked,
stepping into the room.
The investors looked up,
surprised by my intrusion.
Gavin’s smile faltered,
his eyes flashing with a warning.
"Samantha, honey,"
"this is a private meeting."
"Go back to your room."
"I’m not going anywhere,"
I said,
walking to the table.
"Because that land doesn't belong to you."
"And those signatures are worth less than the paper they’re written on."
Harriet stood up,
her face turning a mottled red.
"You’ve finally lost it,"
she hissed.
"Get out of here before I call the police!"
"Actually,"
I said,
pulling my phone from my pocket.
"I’ve already called someone."
"But it wasn't the police."
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"It was a lawyer."
"And he’s standing in the hallway right now."
