“Sincerely, enjoy your week.”
I tried.
I really did.
I went to work, managed my properties, returned emails, ate lunch at my desk like a normal human being.
But there was this low hum in the back of my mind, like waiting for a storm you can see on the horizon.
Thursday afternoon, my phone rang.
It was Derek.
Chapter 7: The Truth Comes to Light
“Hey,” he said.
His voice was casual, almost too casual.
“Quick question. You got a minute?”
“Sure.”
“So, I got this weird letter today. Something from the title company about Birchwood Lane. Looks like a clerical thing, but it’s got some other name on it as the current owner. You work in property stuff, right? Can you take a look at it?”
My heart was pounding, but my voice stayed flat.
“What name is on it?”
“Some LLC. Callaway Creek Holdings or something.”
That’s my LLC, named after the creek behind Uncle Ray’s first rental property.
“I can look into it,” I said. “Can you send me a photo of the letter?”
“Yeah, hold on.”
The photo came through a minute later.
I opened it and read every word, even though I already knew what it said.
Standard ownership transfer notification.
New owner: Callaway Creek Holdings LLC.
Effective date: March 15th.
“Derek,” I said, “this isn’t a clerical error.”
Silence.
“What do you mean?”
“The property was sold at a foreclosure auction in March. This letter is notifying you that ownership has legally transferred.”
More silence.
Then, quietly, “That’s not possible. I own that duplex.”
“You did. The loan went into default and the lender initiated foreclosure proceedings. The property was auctioned.”
“No. No, that’s… Arturo said he was going to work with me. He said we had an extension.”
“I don’t know what Arturo told you. I know what the county records say.”
I could hear him breathing.
Then the anger came fast, like I knew it would.
“Who the hell is Callaway Creek Holdings? Some hedge fund? Some vulture investor scooping up people’s homes?”
I closed my eyes.
“It’s me, Derek.”
The line went dead.
He didn’t call back.
Not that night. Not the next morning.
But the fallout started anyway.
Friday at noon, my mom called.
She was crying.
“Nathan, what is going on? Derek just called me. He’s hysterical. He says you stole his house.”
“Mom, I didn’t steal anything.”
“He says you went behind his back and bought his property. Is that true?”
“The property was foreclosed on by his lender and sold at a public auction. I purchased it legally. I didn’t know it was his until after the sale.”
“How could you not know?”
“Because it was part of a bundle of three properties. I didn’t review the previous owner names until the paperwork was finalized.”
She was quiet for a moment.
“Well, you have to give it back.”
“Mom, he lost it. The bank took it because he stopped paying.”
“Then help him get it back. You’re his brother.”
I sat down on my couch and rubbed my forehead.
“Mom, there’s more to this. A lot more. And I need to tell you in person, not over the phone.”
“What do you mean, more?”
“I mean, there are things about Derek’s financial situation that you and Dad need to know. Things that directly affect you.”
“What things? Nathan, you’re scaring me.”
“Can you and Dad come to my office Monday morning? I’ll explain everything.”
“Your office? Nathan, just tell me.”