I walked in at 10:42 a.m., ordered my grande cold brew, $4.95, and there, sitting next to my mother, was Natalie. Surprise! Natalie was 16 weeks pregnant. Her belly was just starting to show. She wore a fitted dress that made sure you noticed. Her eyes were already red. Julie, she stood up wobbly. I’m so glad you’re here. I wanted to talk to you about the twins. She touched her stomach, started crying. They’re kicking so much already. I can’t wait for them to grow up somewhere with nature, somewhere beautiful like you had with Aunt Miriam. She wasn’t kicking yet.
Not at 16 weeks. She was lying or imagining. You don’t need that house, Julie. You’re always traveling for work. But me, I’m going to be a mom. Twins need space. Don’t you understand? My mother reached across the table. We’re not asking you to give it away, sweetheart. Just share it. Let Natalie raise the boys there. You can visit anytime. It stays in the family.
I let them talk for 41 minutes. My phone sat in my purse. Voice memos running. They didn’t know I’d sold the house 3 weeks ago. They didn’t know Adrien Castellano owned the property. They thought they were convincing me. In reality, I was documenting their attempts to manipulate me into giving away something I no longer even owned. The irony was almost funny. Almost.
When they finished, I hugged Natalie. I said, “Let me think about it, okay?” I didn’t say, “The house isn’t mine anymore.” I let them believe there was still a chance because every call after that, every email, every ounce of pressure, it would all become evidence showing exactly how far they were willing to go. On the drive home, I smiled. The key they were holding, it was about to become a noose.
On October 5th, 2025, my mother did something I should have expected, but somehow didn’t. She listed my house for sale on the MLS without my permission using a forged signature.
I didn’t find out until October 8th. That’s when Adrien’s attorney called me. Julie, I was running title insurance prep for the November gala and I found something. The property is currently listed for sale on the MLS. That’s impossible. Adrien owns it. I know, but someone listed it anyway. Agent Evelyn Morrison, Cascade Realty, listed October 5th for $1,195,000. Signature on the listing agreement. Julie Morrison.
My mother. My mother, who’s a licensed real estate agent, who absolutely knows how to check title records, which are public online, free on the county website. Sarah Pritchard pulled the access logs. My mother had logged into the county title record system on October 4th at 8:42 a.m. She’d seen Adrien’s name on the deed. She knew I no longer owned the property and she listed it anyway.
The listing description read, “Motivated seller. Family situation requires quick sale lake views 4,100 square feet priced to move.” She was trying to create pressure to manufacture a crisis to force Adrien into reversing the sale by making the situation public within the real estate community. What she didn’t anticipate, Adrien had better attorneys than she did. When Adrien called me, I didn’t hesitate. File the complaint. Every single violation, I want her license gone.
Sarah filed with the Oregon Real Estate Commission on October 12th. Complaint number 2025-10-8832 forgery unauthorized MLS listing fraudulent representation. My mother had just committed a crime in writing with her license number attached.
Between September and early November, Natalie didn’t just post on Instagram. She texted me 12 times. September 22nd, 2:18 p.m. Hey sis, can Javier and I come measure the nursery bedrooms next weekend? Want to order furniture soon? I replied the next morning. Swamped with work deadlines right now. Let’s connect in a few weeks. October 8th, 5:30 p.m.
Ordered the cribs from Pottery Barn. Should I ship to Crater Lake address or have them delivered to your place first? October 8th, 6:15 p.m. Better wait on delivery. Still sorting some logistics with the house. October 20th, 11:22 a.m. What’s the Wi-Fi password at the lake house? Want to set up baby monitors when we move in? I didn’t have the Wi-Fi password. Adrien had changed it weeks ago. October 20th, 8:50 p.m. Don’t have it handy. We’ll look later.