Chapter 3 - The House That Was Never Theirs
My family called forty-three times that day. I answered none of them.
At 6:18, Kayla texted: Please call me. I swear I didn't know everything.
At 6:31: Dad said your name was only on paperwork because the bank required it.
At 6:42: I thought you agreed years ago.
That one almost got me. Almost.
Then, at 7:05: Please don't ruin the sale.
There it was. Not are you okay. Not I'm sorry. Please don't ruin the sale.
I screenshotted every message and sent them straight to Rachel.
The next morning, Mom showed up outside my apartment. I watched through the peephole as she knocked. "Natalie? I know you're home." Nothing. "Please. Your father hasn't slept."
That almost made me laugh. Neither had I.
She knocked again. "You don't understand what's at stake."
I opened the door, chain still latched. She looked ten years older.
"What's at stake?"
"Everything."
"Whose everything?"
"Natalie—"
"Was my signature forged?"
She froze. That answered me on its own.
"Was it Dad?"
Her eyes filled. "I need you to understand what things were like back then."
"Was it Dad?"
"We were desperate." The words rushed out. "Kayla's business was failing. Your father had already put money in. We were behind on the mortgage. You had the best credit. We knew you'd help if we explained—"
"So you didn't explain."
"You always helped!"
"Then why forge my name?"
Mom started crying. "Because we knew you'd ask questions."
That hurt worse than the birthday toast. They hadn't deceived me because they thought I'd refuse to help. They deceived me because they knew I was responsible enough to notice exactly how reckless they were being.
"How much of Kayla's success was actually mine?"
She flinched. "I don't know what you mean."
"The loans. My savings. The guarantees. How much?"
She looked away. "Most of the early financing."
My throat tightened. All those speeches. All those birthdays. All those comparisons. Kayla is fearless. Kayla is ambitious. Kayla built something from nothing. Except that "nothing" was my credit. My money. My security. My forged signature.
Mom reached for the door. "We can fix this."
"No. You can face it."
"Natalie, please, if the sale collapses your father could lose the house."
I frowned. "Why?"
Silence. My stomach dropped. "Mom. Why?"
"He borrowed against it."
May you like
"How much?"
Her silence answered that too. I closed the door.
