Chapter 3: The House That Wasn't What I Thought
My father didn't touch the mortgage document again.
He simply stared at it.
"Michael, explain this.""
I pulled out a chair and sat down.
Sarah remained standing beside the kitchen counter, gripping its edge so tightly that her knuckles had turned white.
Jordan moved closer to the table.
My mother quietly closed the front door, as if she had decided nobody was leaving until the truth came out.
I took a breath.
"Three years ago, Sarah and I bought this house.""
Sarah interrupted.
"We bought it together.""
"That's what I thought.""
My father looked between us.
"What do you mean?""
I opened the envelope and removed another document.
"When we applied for the mortgage, Sarah told me her credit score was too low because of an old medical debt. She said putting the house in her name temporarily would make the process easier.""
Sarah shook her head.
"That's not how it happened.""
I continued.
"She said we'd refinance after twelve months. Until then, I'd transfer my share of the down payment and monthly payments into an account she controlled.""
My mother frowned.
"How much?""
"Forty-five thousand dollars for the down payment. Then monthly transfers for three years.""
Jordan whistled quietly.
"That's a lot of money.""
I nodded.
"It was everything I'd saved before we got married.""
My father leaned forward.
"And the mortgage?""
"Her name is on it. Mine isn't.""
Sarah finally spoke.
"Because we agreed it was temporary!""
I looked at her.
"Then why did you refuse to refinance?""
She opened her mouth.
I continued before she could answer.
"Because every time I asked, you said we weren't financially ready. Then you said the interest rates were too high. Last month, you told me the bank had rejected the application.""
My father looked confused.
"Did you check with the bank?""
I nodded.
"Last Tuesday.""
Sarah's face changed.
"What?""
"I called the mortgage company.""
For the first time that night, Sarah looked genuinely frightened.
I took out another sheet of paper.
"The bank confirmed that no refinancing application had ever been submitted.""
My father sat back.
"Three years?""
"Three years.""
Sarah walked toward me.
"You went behind my back?""
I stared at her.
"You told me the bank rejected an application that never existed.""
"I was trying to protect us!""
"From what?""
She didn't answer.
I placed the bank statement on the table.
"There's more. I asked for the account history because I wanted to understand where my monthly transfers were going.""
My father looked down.
"What did you find?""
I pointed to a series of transactions.
Some were mortgage payments.
Others were transfers to a personal savings account under Sarah's name.
Then there were several payments to a property management company.
Jordan leaned closer.
"What's that?""
I swallowed.
"Rent.""
Sarah closed her eyes.
My mother looked confused.
"Rent for what?""
I turned the statement toward them.
"For an apartment.""
Nobody spoke.
My father slowly looked up.
"Whose apartment?""
I answered.
"Sarah's.""
Sarah immediately stepped forward.
"It's not what you think.""
I laughed once, without humor.
"Then explain it.""
She shook her head.
"Michael, we can talk about this privately.""
"No. You made the dinner rules in front of everyone. You told my father I was irresponsible in front of everyone. You can explain this in front of everyone too.""
Her lips tightened.
My father pointed toward the document.
"How long have you been paying for another apartment?""
Sarah looked at the floor.
"About eight months.""
My mother gasped.
"Eight months?""
"It was an investment," Sarah said quickly.
"I was planning to rent it out.""
Jordan frowned.
"Then why are you living there?""
The room went silent.
I looked at my brother.
He looked back at me.
Neither of us had known.
Sarah's face drained of color.
"Who told you that?""
Jordan blinked.
"I didn't know. I was asking.""
I stood up.
"Wait. You're living there?""
Sarah shook her head.
"No.""
"Then why did the electricity company send a bill for that apartment to our house?""
She stared at me.
I pulled another folded document from the envelope.
"I found it in the mail last week.""
My father took it.
The bill was addressed to Sarah.
The service address was an apartment twenty minutes from our home.
There was also a delivery receipt attached.
Two names appeared on it.
Sarah Mitchell.
And another name.
Daniel Carter.
My father read the second name aloud.
"Daniel Carter?""
Sarah covered her face.
Jordan stepped backward.
"Who's Daniel?""
I looked at my wife.
For eight months, I'd been transferring money into an account I believed was paying for our future.
For eight months, Sarah had been telling me we couldn't afford to make changes to our home.
And for eight months, another man had apparently been receiving deliveries at an apartment funded partly by my money.
Sarah finally lowered her hands.
"Daniel is my cousin.""
I stared at her.
"Your cousin?""
"Yes.""
"Then why is his name on the lease?""
She looked toward the front door.
My father noticed.
"Sarah, don't you dare walk away from this conversation.""
She swallowed.
Then she whispered something that made my stomach drop.
"Because Daniel isn't the person you should be asking about.""
I felt the blood drain from my face.
"Then who should I ask?""
Sarah looked directly at Jordan.
And my younger brother slowly sat down.
May you like
Because suddenly, he seemed to understand something I didn't.
*To be continued.*
