The Last Choice

PART 2 — The House He Tried to Steal

The next morning, I arrived at Rachel Warren’s office at 8:30.

I hadn’t slept.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Grant standing beside Vanessa, smiling as if seven years of marriage had meant nothing.

Rachel was waiting with a thick folder on her desk.

“Sit down, Claire. We have a serious problem.”

She opened the folder and showed me several documents.

The first was a property transfer agreement.

The second was a loan application.

The third was a power of attorney bearing my name.

I stared at the signature.

It looked almost exactly like mine.

But I had never signed it.

“Grant used your identity to authorize a transfer of the house into a company he secretly established,” Rachel explained. “He intended to sell the property and move the proceeds into an account controlled by him.”

“Why would he do that?”

Rachel looked at me carefully.

“Because he was preparing to leave you without access to your marital assets. And judging by the dates, this plan started before you discovered his affair.”

I felt sick.

“Can we stop him?”

“We can challenge the documents, notify the relevant financial institutions, and seek an immediate court order. But I need you to understand something. This may become a legal battle.”

I nodded.

“Then let’s fight.”

Rachel gave me a small smile.

“That’s what I wanted to hear.”

At 9:17, my phone started ringing.

Grant.

I answered on speaker.

“Claire, where are you?”

“Somewhere you aren’t.”

“Stop playing games. Come home. We need to discuss what happened yesterday.”

“What happened yesterday? You mean your girlfriend?”

“Vanessa isn’t the issue.”

I looked at Rachel.

“Then what is?”

Grant exhaled impatiently.

“Listen, sweetheart. You’re pregnant, emotional, and clearly not thinking straight. I made some financial arrangements. That’s all.”

“Did you forge my signature?”

Silence.

Then his voice changed.

“Who told you that?”

“So it’s true.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Then explain why someone is trying to transfer my house without my permission.”

“It’s our house!”

“Exactly. Our house. Not yours to secretly sell.”

He lowered his voice.

“Claire, don’t make this ugly. I’ll take care of everything when I get back.”

I almost laughed.

“You’ve had seven years to take care of your family, Grant.”

“Don’t do this.”

“You already did.”

I ended the call.

Rachel immediately began preparing the necessary legal notices.

But Grant wasn’t finished.

At noon, Emily called me.

“Claire, something terrible is happening.”

“What now?”

“Grant told our parents you’re having some kind of breakdown. He says you went to the airport to embarrass him and that you’re threatening to destroy his company.”

I closed my eyes.

“Of course he did.”

“Mom wants you to come over. She says you need to apologize.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“Emily, your brother tried to steal my house.”

“What?”

“He used a forged document with my signature.”

Emily went silent.

Then she whispered, “I knew he was hiding something, but I didn’t know it was this bad.”

“I’m sorry, Emily. But I’m done protecting him.”

That afternoon, Rachel received confirmation that the attempted property transfer had been flagged for investigation.

It wasn’t enough to end the matter, but it was a start.

Then, at 4:36 p.m., Vanessa sent me a message.

I think you deserve to know the truth about Grant.

A photograph followed.

It showed a document on a desk.

At the top was the name of a company I had never heard of.

Below it were the words:

Mercer Family Holdings — Beneficiary Agreement.

My name appeared nowhere.

Neither did our unborn son’s.

But Vanessa’s name was listed as a beneficiary.

I stared at the screen.

Then another message arrived.

He promised me the house, the company shares, and a future together. I didn’t know he was planning to leave you with nothing.

For the first time, I wondered whether Vanessa had finally realized what kind of man she was dealing with.

I forwarded everything to Rachel.

Then I replied with one sentence.

If you want to tell the truth, tell it to my attorney.

I put my phone down and rested both hands on my stomach.

“Your father made a terrible choice, little one,” I whispered. “But we won’t let his choices decide our future.”