Chapter 6: The Plan They Made Behind Her Back
Quentin arrived at Marcus's house forty minutes later.
He was soaked from the rain.
His hair was disheveled, his shirt untucked, and the overnight bag he'd carried earlier was gone.
Simone opened the door but didn't step aside immediately.
“Did you come alone?””
“Yes.””
“Did you tell your mother where you were going?””
“No.””
She studied his face.
Then she moved aside.
“Come in.””
Marcus was waiting in the living room.
A folder lay open on the coffee table.
Quentin glanced at it.
“What is all this?””
Simone folded her arms.
“Your mother's paperwork.””
He walked closer.
Then he saw the printed email.
His face changed.
“Where did you get that?””
“Marcus found it.””
Quentin picked it up.
His eyes moved across the screen.
He recognized the conversation.
Three weeks earlier, Marva had asked him to sign several documents. She'd told him they were temporary authorizations connected to the insurance policy.
He remembered sitting at her kitchen counter, answering work emails while she placed papers beside his coffee.
He remembered signing without reading.
He remembered her saying, One day you'll thank me for handling these things.
But he didn't remember the email.
“Did you send this?”” Simone asked.
Quentin swallowed.
“I don't remember.””
“Your name is right there.””
“I know.””
“Did you agree to something with your mother without telling me?””
He rubbed the back of his neck.
“She said she had an idea.””
“What idea?””
“She wanted us to consider moving.””
Simone stared at him.
“Moving where?””
Marva's neighborhood.
Quentin had mentioned it once, casually, several months earlier. He'd said his mother thought they should live closer to her.
Simone had laughed.
They had just bought their house.
Their daughter had started kindergarten nearby.
Their lives were there.
“I told her we weren't moving,” Simone said.
“I know.””
“Then why did she write that we had a plan?””
Quentin looked at the email again.
“I don't know.””
Marcus leaned forward.
“There's another document.””
He placed a printed property listing on the table.
Simone recognized the address.
It was their house.
The listing described a three-bedroom property in need of renovation, available for an investor purchase.
Quentin's mouth fell open.
“What is this?””
Marcus tapped the bottom.
“Your mother contacted a real estate investor two weeks before the flood.””
Simone picked up the paper.
The proposed sale price was far below the market value of the property.
And beside the seller's contact information was Marva's phone number.
“She was trying to sell our house?””
Quentin shook his head.
“That's impossible.””
Marcus remained calm.
“Then explain why the investor has copies of your authorization forms.””
Quentin looked at him.
“What investor?””
Marcus handed him a business card.
The company was called Blackstone Property Acquisitions.
Quentin read the name.
He had heard of them.
They purchased damaged houses, renovated them, and resold them.
But why would his mother contact them?
He looked at Simone.
“Did you know about this?””
She shook her head.
“No. I didn't even know your mother had been inside our house.””
Quentin sat down heavily.
For a moment, he looked like a man who had finally understood the size of the hole he'd dug.
Then his phone rang.
Marva.
He declined the call.
It rang again.
He declined it again.
A text arrived.
Baby, come home. We need to talk before you make a terrible mistake.
Then another.
Your wife is filling your head with lies.
Quentin stared at the screen.
Simone watched him.
“Answer her.””
He looked up.
“What?””
“Put her on speaker.””
He hesitated.
Then he accepted the call.
“Mom?””
Marva's voice was immediately affectionate.
“Sweetheart, where are you?””
“I'm with Simone.””
A pause.
Then her voice sharpened.
“Why?””
“Because I need answers.””
“What answers?””
“Why did you contact a real estate company about our house?””
Silence.
Marcus and Simone exchanged a glance.
Marva finally spoke.
“I was trying to help you.””
“By selling our house?””
“You and Simone were struggling.””
“We weren't struggling.””
“You had a mortgage. Bills. A child. I thought it would be better if you moved somewhere cheaper.””
“Without asking us?””
“You would have thanked me eventually.””
Quentin closed his eyes.
“Did you take money from the insurance company?””
Marva sighed.
“I already told you I borrowed it.””
“You weren't authorized to borrow it.””
“Quentin, listen to me. I had everything arranged.””
“Arranged for what?””
Her voice dropped.
“To get you away from that house.””
Simone stepped closer.
“Why?””
Marva clearly hadn't expected to hear her.
“Simone, this conversation is between me and my son.””
Simone leaned toward the phone.
“Then why did you put my house up for sale?””
Marva went quiet.
Then she said something that made Simone's blood run cold.
“Because I knew you would never leave voluntarily.””
Quentin stared at the phone.
“Mom, what does that mean?””
Marva exhaled.
“You have no idea what that woman has been doing.””
Simone shook her head.
“Stop blaming me.””
“I'm not blaming you. I'm telling the truth.””
“Then tell it.””
Marva's voice became louder.
“You think I don't know about the money you've been hiding?””
Simone froze.
Quentin looked at his wife.
“What money?””
Marva continued.
“Ask your wife what she did with the savings from your joint account. Ask her why she moved money without telling you.””
Quentin turned toward Simone.
“Simone?””
She looked stunned.
“Quentin, I didn't take anything from our joint account.””
Marva gave a bitter laugh through the speaker.
“Of course she would deny it.””
Marcus reached for the folder.
He pulled out another document.
A bank statement.
Then he placed it in front of Quentin.
“Before you believe another word,” Marcus said quietly, “look at the account number.””
Quentin picked up the statement.
His eyes moved across the page.
The account was connected to his mother's address.
But the name listed as the primary account holder wasn't Marva.
It was Quentin Black.
He looked at Simone.
Then at the phone.
“Mom,” he whispered.
“What is this account?””
For several seconds, Marva said nothing.
Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, she replied:
“That's the account your father left you.””
Quentin went completely still.
“My father died twenty years ago.””
“I know.””
“You told me there was nothing left.””
Marva's breathing became uneven.
“Quentin, I can explain.””
He stared at the statement.
The balance at the top of the page was $146,800.
His mother had told him for twenty years that his father's life insurance had barely covered the funeral.
Now he was looking at an account that had been quietly maintained in his name.
And the most recent withdrawal was dated just three days before the flood.
$38,500.
Exactly the amount listed on the insurance authorization.
Quentin slowly raised his eyes.
“Mom…”
Marva began crying.
“Please, baby. Don't let them turn you against me.””
But Quentin wasn't looking at the phone anymore.
He was looking at the transaction details.
The withdrawal hadn't gone to pay for a roof.
It hadn't gone toward plumbing repairs.
It had gone to Blackstone Property Acquisitions.
And beneath the transaction was a reference number for a pending property purchase.
His mother's house wasn't the only thing she had planned to protect.
She had been preparing to buy something.
Something connected to his flooded home.
And the person who had authorized the transaction was the man sitting in Marcus's living room.
Quentin Black.
He looked at Simone.
“There's something else I need to find out.””
Simone's voice was barely audible.
“What?””
He turned the statement around.
At the bottom was the name of the person listed as the buyer's representative.
*Marva Black.*
But beside her name was a second person.
May you like
Someone neither of them expected to see.
*Simone Black.*
