Fiona stared at the county recording stamp on the first page.
Gregory stopped talking.
I laid the deed on the table between us.
Then the front door opened behind him.
My attorney stepped inside, took one look at the document Gregory had been trying to make my father sign, and said,
“Nobody touch that folder.”
Gregory went pale.
My attorney, Claire, slipped on a pair of reading glasses and opened Gregory’s folder without moving it from the table.
Fiona immediately reached for it.
“That’s private.”
Claire blocked her hand.
“Not anymore.”
The first page wasn’t a deed.
It was an occupancy agreement naming Gregory and Fiona as permanent residents and making my elderly parents responsible for utilities, repairs, and household expenses.
The second page was worse: a handwritten statement claiming Dad had invited them to take control of the property.
