Getting out of Sunset Manor for this appointment had required lying to the staff about a doctor’s visit, but Dorothy had coached me through it.
The nursing home operated on the assumption that residents were too adult or defeated to cause trouble.
They didn’t pay much attention to where we went during the day as long as we showed up for evening medications.
“The power of attorney you signed,” Margaret continued, pulling out a magnifying glass to examine the signature, “was clearly altered after the fact. Look here, the ink density is different. The paper has been tampered with, and the notoriization is questionable at best.”
She leaned back in her chair, her expression grim.
“Your son took a limited medical power of attorney and modified it to appear as though you’d granted him broad financial authority. Then he used that fraudulent document to sell your house without your knowledge or consent.”
“Can we get the house back?”
“Absolutely. The sale is void. You can’t legally transfer property based on forged documents. But there’s a complication.”
My heart sank.
“What kind of complication?”
“The buyers are innocent third parties. They purchased the house in good faith, believing your son had the legal right to sell it. While we can absolutely reverse the sale and get your house back, it’s going to take time. Meanwhile, they’ve moved in and started making improvements.”
“How much time?”
“3 to 6 months, assuming your son doesn’t fight us. If he does…” She shrugged. “Could be longer.”
3 to 6 months.
I thought about the institutional meals, the shared bathroom, the constant smell of disinfectant and defeat.
Then I thought about Dominic and Amber toasting their good fortune in some European hotel. Probably already planning how to spend the rest of what they thought was their inheritance.
“There’s something else,” Margaret said carefully. “The sale price concerns me. 250,000 for a house in your neighborhood. I looked up recent comparables and similar properties have been selling for closer to 400,000.”
“Either your son was in a tremendous hurry to close the deal or—”
“Or what?”
“Or there was some kind of arrangement between him and the buyers. A below market sale that benefited someone other than you.”
I felt a cold fury building in my chest.
Not only had Dominic stolen my house, he’d sold it for far less than it was worth.
Either through incompetence or corruption, he cheated me out of an additional $150,000.
“What do you recommend?” I asked.
Margaret pulled out a legal pad and started making notes.
“First, we file criminal charges for fraud and elder abuse. The district attorney’s office takes these cases seriously, especially when there’s clear evidence of document forgery.
“Second, we file a civil suit to reverse the sale and recover damages.
“Third, we freeze any accounts your son might have access to to prevent him from spending or hiding the proceeds.”
“He’s in Europe right now spending the money.”
“Even better. Financial records will show exactly how he used the funds from your house sale. If he’s been living it up in five-star hotels and expensive restaurants while claiming he was acting in your best interest, that strengthens our case considerably.”
Dorothy reached over and squeezed my hand.
“This is going to work, Vera.”
But I was thinking beyond just getting my house back.
Dominic had humiliated me, had treated me like a confused old woman who could be easily disposed of.
He dumped me in a nursing home and flown off to Europe without a second thought.
Legal action would get my property back, but it wouldn’t teach him the lesson he really needed to learn.
“Margaret,” I said slowly. “How long before Dominic knows we’re taking legal action?”
“We’ll need to serve him with papers, so he’ll know as soon as he gets back from Europe. Why? When is he supposed to return?”
I thought back to that horrible morning when they’d torn my life apart.
Amber had mentioned a 3-month trip. It had been 2 weeks since they left. About 10 weeks from now.
“Perfect,” I said, an idea beginning to form. “I want to wait to serve him until he’s back in the country. Let him enjoy his vacation. Let him spend every penny he thinks he’s stolen from me.”
“And in the meantime, I’d like to make some arrangements of my own.”
Margaret raised an eyebrow.
“What kind of arrangements?”
I smiled, feeling more like myself than I had since this nightmare began.
“The kind that will teach my son that underestimating his mother was the biggest mistake of his life.”
Back at Sunset Manor that evening, I sat in the common room pretending to watch television while actually planning my next moves.
The other residents were focused on a rerun of some old detective show, but I was thinking about justice.
The legal kind Margaret would deliver and the personal kind I was going to craft myself.
First, I needed more information about exactly what Dominic had done with my money.
Margaret could get financial records through legal discovery, but I wanted details sooner than that.
I needed to understand the full scope of his betrayal before I decided how to respond.
Second, I needed to secure my own financial position.
Dominic knew about some of my accounts, the ones Harold and I had shared, but he didn’t know about everything.
Over the years, I’d learned to maintain some independence, especially after watching friends whose husbands controlled every penny.
Harold hadn’t minded. He’d actually encouraged me to have my own safety net.
That safety net was about to become Dominic’s worst nightmare.
The next morning, I made another doctor’s appointment and took a taxi to my bank.
The manager, Mr. Curtis, had known Harold and me for over 20 years.
When I explained what had happened, his face went through several shades of red.
“That’s unconscionable, Mrs. Mitchell. Absolutely unconscionable.”
He pulled up my accounts on his computer.
“Your individual savings account and the certificate of deposit are untouched. Your son doesn’t have access to those. Combined, you have about $85,000.”
More than enough for what I had in mind.
“I want to make some transfers,” I told him. “And I need to discuss setting up a trust.”
Mr. Curtis nodded.
“Smart thinking. Protecting your assets from further…” He paused delicately. “Family interference.”
By the time I left the bank 2 hours later, my money was secured in accounts Dominic couldn’t touch, even if he somehow gained access to my original financial information.
I’d also opened a new checking account under my maiden name and set up a post office box for mail.
My next stop was a real estate office.
“Mrs. Mitchell!”
The agent, Linda Hayes, jumped up when she saw me. She’d helped Harold and me refinance our house a few years back.
“I heard about what happened. I’m so sorry. When Dominic came in with those papers, I should have insisted on speaking with you directly.”
“You had no reason to doubt him,” I said, though privately I disagreed.
A good real estate agent should have been suspicious of such an unusual situation.
“But I’m hoping you can help me with something else.”
I explained what I wanted to do.
Linda’s eyes grew wider with each detail.
“That’s… that’s brilliant,” she said finally. “And completely legal. Your son has no idea what’s coming, does he?”
“None whatsoever.”
“When do you want to start?”