And the notary’s seal.
“How much are they paying her?” he finally asked, his voice breaking.
“The agreed price is seven hundred sixty thousand dollars.”
Beverly let out a cry.
“Seven hundred thousand! That wretch is stealing our inheritance!”
Frank spoke up firmly for the first time.
“Ma’am, nobody can steal what legally belongs to them. Mrs. Doyle sold her own property. The final closing is in the next few days, and we need to confirm the condo can be delivered vacant.”
“Well, we’re not leaving!” Gordon said. “I’ve lived here more than twenty-five years.”
Brennan slowly closed the folder.
“You’re welcome to consult an attorney. But living in a property doesn’t make you its owner. If you refuse to vacate, the appropriate legal proceedings will have to be followed.”
Gordon froze.
For a few seconds, the only sound was the hum of the refrigerator.
Then Kendra appeared from the living room.
She had been sitting on the sofa leafing through a catalog of imported furniture until she heard the sale price mentioned.
“Gordon, explain something to me,” she demanded. “Isn’t this place in your name?”
He tried to take her hand.
“Babe, there was a problem with the paperwork. But we’ll fix it.”
Kendra pulled her arm away.
“You told me you owned a property worth more than eight hundred thousand dollars!”
“And I believed I did.”
“You also promised you’d get three hundred thousand to invest in my dad’s business!”
Beverly tried to step in.
“Sweetheart, don’t get upset. Remember you have to take care of the baby.”
Kendra looked at her with an expression none of them had seen before.
She no longer looked like the sweet young woman who affectionately called Beverly “Mama B.”
Her face hardened.
“You know what? I’m sick of listening to this nonsense.”
Gordon’s eyes widened.
“Kendra, calm down.”
“Calm down? I’ve spent months putting up with your boring conversations, your jealousy, and your millionaire promises! And now it turns out you don’t even have a condo!”
“But you said you loved me.”
She let out a bitter laugh.
“Gordon, you’re fifty-four. Did you really think a thirty-four-year-old woman fell in love with you because you’re charming?”
The man staggered back as if he’d been slapped.
Beverly started to cry.
“You can’t talk that way to your baby’s father.”
Kendra closed her eyes, irritated.
“There is no baby!”
The silence was absolute.
Gordon could barely get the words out:
“What did you say?”
“I’m not pregnant, Gordon. I never was.”
Beverly gripped the back of a chair.
“But we saw the ultrasound. We even went shopping for baby clothes.”
“It was an image I got through an acquaintance. I set everything up so Gordon would believe I was pregnant.”
“And the medical receipt?” Gordon asked.
“I arranged that too. I needed you to stop asking questions and start getting the money.”
Gordon put both hands on his head.
For weeks he had talked about his future son. He had picked out names and bought a small crib.
And it had all been a lie.
But Kendra wasn’t finished.
“My dad doesn’t own a resort either. He’s been in prison for fraud since last year.”
Beverly opened her mouth but no sound came out.
“Then the investments?” Gordon asked.
“They didn’t exist. I have debts, and I figured you could help me pay them off. You promised you’d mortgage the condo and we’d have plenty of money.”
Gordon sank onto the sofa.
The same woman for whom he had destroyed his marriage had just confessed she was only after his money.
“You deceived me,” he murmured.
Kendra looked at him with contempt.
“You deceived me too. You introduced me as your future wife in a house that wasn’t even yours.”
Then she picked up her purse from the dining table and walked to the door.
Beverly tried to stop her.
“Kendra, please. Even if there’s no baby, we can work this out.”
“I’m not staying here to take care of a man in debt and his mother.”
And she left without saying goodbye.
The slam of the door echoed through the whole condo.
Frank and Mr. Brennan exchanged an awkward glance.
“We’re sorry about the situation,” Brennan said, “but we need to resolve the handover of the property. We can give you a short window to remove your belongings voluntarily. If you need advice, please consult your attorney.”
When the two men left, Gordon stayed seated in front of the furniture catalog.
On the cover was an Italian sofa that cost more than twenty thousand dollars.
Hours earlier he had promised to buy it.
Now he didn’t know where he would sleep next week.
I found out about the scene from Frank, who called me as soon as he left the building.
He told me what had happened with a mix of surprise and concern.
I didn’t feel the joy I had imagined.
For a moment I only remembered the twenty-six-year-old girl who had walked into that condo believing her marriage would last forever.
I thought about the nights I’d stayed awake caring for Walter.
About the times Gordon let his mother humiliate me.
And about Paige, my daughter, who had so often asked me why we never went out together like other families.
Then my phone rang.
It was Gordon.
I answered.
“Margaret, we need to talk.”
His voice sounded different. Nothing was left of the arrogant man who had ordered me to leave.
“I’m listening.”
“I made a terrible mistake. Kendra deceived me. The pregnancy was a lie.”
“I’m sorry for you, Gordon.”
“Margaret, please, we can start over. We’re a family. We shared twenty-five years.”
I looked out the window of my rented apartment.
Down below, a woman was walking calmly with her dog. Two young people were laughing outside a coffee shop.
Life went on.
“Gordon, for twenty-five years I asked you for respect, and you never had time to listen. Now that you’ve found out the condo isn’t yours, you want to talk about family.”
“It’s not about the money!”
“Then tell me something. If Kendra had really been pregnant and you had owned that condo, would you have called me today to apologize?”
Gordon didn’t answer.
His silence was more honest than any explanation.
“My father loved you very much,” he said finally. “We can’t waste what he built.”
“Precisely because Walter loved me, I’m going to respect what he decided to do for me.”
“But my mother is an elderly woman! Do you want to see her out on the street?”
I felt a pang of sadness.
I remembered all the mornings Beverly had said I should be grateful for a roof over my head.
“Your mother has a son, Gordon. For twenty-five years it was your job to protect your wife, and you chose to look the other way. Now it’s your turn to take responsibility for her.”
“Margaret, I’m begging you.”
“You have until the date agreed with the buyer to remove your things. I don’t want to hurt you, but I won’t give up my future to save you from the consequences of your own choices.”
I hung up.
Within seconds a text arrived from Beverly.
