Chapter 4 - The Wolf at the Door
The knock on my front door came at precisely 9:14 a.m. the following morning.
It wasn't a polite knock. It was the sharp, aggressive pounding of someone who believed they owned the property.
I walked down the hallway, motioning for Sarah to stay upstairs with Leo, and pulled the heavy oak door open.
Standing on my porch was Derek Bennett.
He was dressed in an expensive charcoal suit, his blond hair slicked back, holding a manila legal folder in one hand like a prop in a bad courtroom drama. Behind him stood his mother, Lydia, her face twisted into a mask of arrogant triumph, wearing a fur coat that looked like it had been bought with stolen money.
“Thomas,” Derek said, his tone dripping with patronizing condescension. “I’m glad you’re here. This will save us the trouble of serving formal papers.”
I didn't invite them in. I stood blocking the doorway, my arms crossed over my chest. “You’ve got a lot of nerve showing up on my property after what you and your mother did to Sarah.”
“What we did?” Lydia sneered, stepping past her son and pointing a manicured finger at my chest. “That ungrateful little parasite signed over her property of her own free will! She was living above her means, dragging my son down with her financial dead weight! We did her a favor by cleaning up her mess!”
“Shut your mouth, Lydia,” I said, my voice dropping to a low, dangerous growl that made her instinctively take half a step back.
Derek cleared his throat, trying to regain his rehearsed corporate composure. “Look, Thomas, let’s be reasonable adults here. Sarah is in no condition to raise a child. She’s exhausted, traumatized, and frankly, unstable. We are prepared to offer a very generous settlement. She signs away all parental rights, drops any claims to property or financial support, and in exchange, we won't press charges for her erratic behavior at the hospital.”
I stared at him. Really stared at him.
For seven years, I had watched this pathetic excuse of a man charm my niece, pretend to love her, and slowly isolate her from her friends while bleeding her dry. And now, standing on my porch with his mother, he was trying to blackmail a new mother who had barely survived a dangerous childbirth.
“You think you’ve won, don't you, Derek?” I asked softly.
Derek puffed out his chest. “We have won, Thomas. The deed is notarized, recorded, and legally binding. The courts in this county protect property rights above all else. Within forty-eight hours, a judge will grant us temporary custody of the baby. There is nothing you or your high-priced lawyers can do about it.”
“Is that so?”
A smooth, calm voice echoed from behind me as Julian Garrison stepped out into the foyer, holding a neatly folded document with a red wax seal.
Derek’s smug expression flickered for a microsecond. “Who the hell are you?”
“Julian Garrison,” the lawyer introduced himself with a chillingly polite smile, stepping out onto the porch. “Counsel for Mr. Thomas Beckett and Mrs. Sarah Bennett-Beckett. And contrary to your belief, Mr. Bennett, the courts in this county also take a very dim view of felony forgery, elder exploitation, and fraudulent conveyance of real estate.”
Lydia’s face flushed a mottled red. “That’s a lie! She signed it! We have the paperwork!”
“You have a piece of paper executed by a notary whose license was revoked for fraud, signed using a forged signature while the grantor was heavily medicated under hospital care,” Garrison replied smoothly, stepping down the porch stairs until he was inches from Derek. “Furthermore, federal investigators are currently auditing the eighty-thousand-dollar cash injections into Mrs. Bennett’s personal accounts—funds traced directly from embezzled escrow accounts belonging to your failing real estate firm, Derek.”
The color drained entirely from Derek’s face. The slick corporate facade shattered instantly, revealing the panicked, cornered fraudster underneath.
“That... that’s impossible,” Derek stammered, dropping the manila folder.
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“Enjoy your remaining hours of freedom, Mr. Bennett,” Garrison said, turning back toward the house. “Because by tomorrow morning, the only place you and your mother will be signing documents is at the county jail intake desk.”
I looked at Derek one last time before slamming the heavy oak door in his face.
