Chapter 2 - The Building With My Name Hidden Inside ItI drove straight to Margot's office.
The rain had turned heavier by the time I got there, washing the streets into blurred orange and red reflections.
She was waiting with three folders spread across her conference table.
She didn't look relieved to see me.
That scared me more than anything.
"Sit."
I sat.
Margot pushed the first folder toward me.
"This is the deed."
I opened it.
The building was an old brick commercial property in downtown Franklin, three floors with storefronts on the first level and offices above.
I had bought it four years earlier.
At least, that's what I remembered.
I had bought it through an LLC called Harbor Eight Properties.
I had purchased it after an electrical project left me with enough savings for a down payment.
The plan had been simple.
Buy an older building.
Rent out the spaces.
Let the rent cover the mortgage.
Build equity.
Nothing glamorous.
But it worked.
Within two years, the property had appreciated sharply.
I knew the numbers.
I knew the mortgage.
I knew the insurance.
I knew the tax bill.
What I had not known was who occupied the largest space.
"Holloway Culinary Group," I whispered.
Margot nodded.
"They lease almost sixty percent of the building."
"How did I not know?"
"Because the property manager sends you financial statements under Harbor Eight, and your family operates under a different legal entity."
"So they've been paying me rent?"
"Yes."
My eyebrows lifted.
"How much?"
Margot showed me.
The amount made my stomach twist.
It was far below market.
"That's not rent."
"No."
"It's a family discount."
"It gets worse."
She opened another document.
"Your father has been late seven times in the last eighteen months."
"How late?"
"Sometimes forty days. Sometimes sixty."
I stared at her.
"Why didn't I know?"
"Because the property manager was instructed not to escalate while the tenant was considered 'strategically important.'"
"Who instructed them?"
Margot hesitated.
"That's still unclear."
She slid another page toward me.
A letter from the management company.
The sender was a property management employee I'd never met.
The recipient was my father.
The letter said:
Per the owner's standing family accommodation, delinquency will not trigger immediate enforcement.
I looked at Margot.
"Standing family accommodation?"
"That's why I started digging."
"How long?"
"Three weeks."
"Why?"
She leaned back.
"Because something didn't make sense."
"What?"
"Your father shouldn't have known Harbor Eight existed."
I frowned.
"He knew I owned the building."
"Did he?"
I opened my mouth.
Nothing came out.
Margot pointed to the LLC documents.
"Harbor Eight was created under a registered agent. Your home address isn't listed. Your business address isn't listed. Your name doesn't appear on the public filings except in the annual report."
"So?"
"So someone would have to deliberately search the corporate records to know you owned it."
I felt cold.
"You're saying Dad didn't know?"
"I'm saying I don't think he knew."
I stared at the lease.
"But somehow he signed a document identifying me as landlord."
"Exactly."
The room felt suddenly smaller.
Margot opened the third folder.
"This is the original lease."
The one I had just seen.
Seven years.
The rent.
The renewal option.
And my forged signature.
But then she highlighted something else.
"Look at the tenant."
I read it.
Holloway Culinary Group, LLC.
Below it was the guarantor.
Frank Holloway.
Then another name.
Grant Holloway.
I looked up.
"Grant guaranteed the lease?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"That's what I wanted to know."
She flipped the page.
There was an amendment.
I read it twice.
Then a third time.
The tenant had an option to purchase the building.
My pulse started racing.
"When was this added?"
"Two years ago."
"Who signed?"
"Frank and Grant."
"And me?"
"No."
"Then it's invalid."
"Not necessarily."
"Why?"
Margot tapped a clause.
"Because the amendment says that if the landlord does not object within thirty days, the option remains active."
I stared.
"When did they send it?"
She showed me the date.
Three months after my property manager had quietly changed the mailing address.
The amendment had apparently been sent somewhere else.
Not to me.
"Where?"
Margot looked directly at me.
"Your parents' house."
I felt something shift inside me.
"How?"
"I don't know yet."
The phone on the table buzzed.
Mom.
I watched it ring.
Margot said, "Don't answer."
I did anyway.
"Mom."
Her voice exploded through the speaker.
"Hazel! Where are you?"
"I'm busy."
"The party starts in an hour."
"I won't be there."
"What?"
"You heard me."
"You promised."
"I changed my mind."
She sounded furious.
"You are not going to embarrass us after everything we've done for you."
I almost laughed.
"Embarrass you?"
"Yes."
I looked at the lease.
At my forged signature.
At the property records.
"Did you enjoy my gift?"
Silence.
"What gift?"
"You'll see."
She hung up.
Margot stared at me.
"What did you send?"
I smiled.
"Nothing."
Her eyebrows rose.
"Then what are you planning?"
I closed the lease.
"I think I'm finally going to give my family exactly what they wanted."
May you like
"What?"
"An unforgettable anniversary."
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