But caution only looks like paranoia to people who’ve never been the target.
My attorney, Ms. Langford, called right away.
“I’ve reviewed the deed,” she said. “You’re the sole owner. They have zero legal claim. But you mentioned forgery?”
I glanced at the fake lease clenched in my hand. “They forged my signature,” I said. “And my mother changed the locks.”
There was a brief silence—then her voice sharpened.
“That’s a criminal offense,” she said. “You understand that?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Do not confront them alone. I’m contacting the police to escort you back onto your property.”
I looked toward the front window. My sister appeared with a glass of wine, smiling like royalty in a stolen palace.
My stomach twisted.
But I stayed steady.
Then my lawyer added something that chilled me.
“There’s another issue,” she said. “The title company flagged an attempted lien. It was filed last month.”
I stiffened. “A lien?”
“Yes—under your name, but not your signature. Someone tried to attach a debt to the property before closing.”
My chest tightened.
This wasn’t just theft.
This was sabotage.
“Who filed it?” I asked quietly.
She exhaled. “It traces back to an LLC linked to your father’s former business.”
My heart slammed.
My father had died three years earlier. His company had been absorbed by my uncle’s firm—now controlled by my mother’s side of the family.
Everything clicked.
This wasn’t impulsive.
It was coordinated.
The locks.
The forged lease.
The lien.
They weren’t just taking my house.
They were setting a trap.
If I didn’t stop it now, I knew exactly how it would play out:
They’d claim I was a tenant.
They’d say I owed money.
They’d drag me through court as the problem.
I stared at the door and whispered, Not today.
When the police arrived, there was no shouting.
Just silence.
The kind that follows consequences.
Two officers walked up the driveway while my attorney stayed on speakerphone. I stood beside them, calm, holding my closing documents.
My mother opened the door with theatrical shock, clutching her chest.
