Chapter 7 - The Video
Warren had recorded me before I knew I was being watched.
Celeste sent me the file at 8:04 p.m.
The attachment was labeled:
RB_INTERVIEW_01
I downloaded it.
Daniel sat beside me.
Evelyn joined us by video call.
“Don't alter the original,” she warned.
“I won't.”
I opened the file.
The video showed my mother sitting in her kitchen.
She looked older than I remembered.
Tired.
But alive.
Across from her sat Warren.
The date stamp said eight months before her death.
My breath caught.
Warren leaned forward.
“I am asking for the last time.”
My mother folded her hands.
“No.”
“You don't understand the offer.”
“I understand it perfectly.”
“You'd be financially secure.”
“I already am.”
“You can't maintain twelve acres forever.”
She smiled.
“I maintained them for twenty-six years.”
He shifted.
“You're making this difficult.”
“No, Warren.”
Her voice was calm.
“You are.”
I leaned closer.
Then Warren said:
“Your daughter isn't going to want this.”
My mother's face changed.
“You stay away from Rosalie.”
“I'm trying to protect the family.”
“You are trying to own everything that belongs to it.”
The video continued.
Warren placed a folder on the table.
“Sign this and I stop asking.”
My mother looked at it.
“What is it?”
“An acknowledgment that I offered fair value.”
“I won't sign it.”
“What if I come back after you're gone?”
She stared directly at him.
“Then my daughter will fight you.”
Warren smiled.
“She won't know how.”
My mother smiled back.
“She went to law school.”
He laughed.
“You really think a lawyer can beat me?”
“No.”
My mother leaned forward.
“I think my daughter knows how to wait.”
The video ended.
For several seconds, nobody spoke.
Then Evelyn said, “That is powerful.”
“There is more.”
“How do you know?”
“Because the file is labeled 01.”
We opened the folder.
There were seven clips.
Clip two showed Warren speaking with someone from the county.
Clip three showed a development consultant discussing the interchange.
Clip four showed Warren asking about my mother's health.
Clip five was a conversation between Warren and Daniel.
I clicked it.
Daniel sat across from his father.
Warren placed papers in front of him.
“You don't have to read all of it.”
“Rosalie will ask.”
“Then tell her it's bank paperwork.”
Daniel hesitated.
“What if she wants to see it?”
“Then she'll never understand it.”
Daniel looked down.
“I don't like this.”
“You like having a house.”
Silence.
“Your wife doesn't understand business.”
“She understands contracts.”
“She understands the law. I understand leverage.”
Daniel's face hardened.
“Don't talk about her like that.”
Warren leaned closer.
“Then grow a spine and sign.”
The clip ended.
I looked at Daniel.
He looked sick.
“I don't remember that conversation.”
“You do.”
“I don't.”
“You sat there.”
“I was exhausted.”
“That's not the same thing.”
He turned away.
Clip six.
This one was different.
A conference room.
Warren and the CFO.
The CFO said:
“The bank wants confirmation.”
Warren answered:
“They'll get it.”
“And Rosalie?”
“She's irrelevant.”
“She's a lawyer.”
“She's a wife.”
The CFO hesitated.
“And if Daniel breaks?”
Warren smiled.
“Then we use the children.”
My blood ran cold.
Daniel stood.
“What did he mean?”
I didn't answer.
Evelyn did.
“You need to understand what that sentence means legally.”
“I do.”
“No. You need to understand what it means personally.”
I closed the laptop.
The children were upstairs.
Mabel was five.
Theo was eight.
Warren had mentioned them.
That was enough.
The next morning I filed an emergency motion to preserve the status quo and prohibit Baker Landworks from interfering with our possession of the Lynen Street property while the court considered the injunction.
The hearing was moved up.
Thursday.
Two days.
Warren arrived with three lawyers.
I expected intimidation.
Instead he looked cheerful.
As though we were attending a business meeting.
His lead counsel stood.
“Your Honor, this case is simple. Mrs. Baker granted her husband authority. Her husband exercised that authority. The company relied on it. The company paid consideration. The company improved the surrounding properties in reliance upon the agreement.”
Evelyn stood.
“Your Honor, my client's power of attorney expressly excludes real property transactions.”
The judge glanced at me.
“You drafted it?”
“Yes.”
“Do you dispute the signature?”
“No.”
“What exactly do you dispute?”
“That the signer had authority.”
That sentence changed the room.
The judge looked at Warren's lawyer.
“Show me where the authority came from.”
The lawyer produced the power of attorney.
Then a second document.
“This authorization certificate, Your Honor.”
Evelyn stood.
“Forged.”
Warren's lawyer objected.
The judge raised a hand.
“On what basis?”
I presented the military biometric record.
The date.
The location.
The identity log.
Then the notary commission history.
Expired seal.
Invalid acknowledgment.
The judge studied the papers.
He looked toward Warren.
“Mr. Baker, did your company verify the authority before taking the option?”
Warren's lawyer answered.
“Yes, Your Honor.”
“How?”
A pause.
“Through Mr. Daniel Baker.”
The judge's eyes moved to my husband.
“Mr. Baker, stand.”
Daniel stood.
“Did you verify your wife's authority to sell this property?”
Daniel opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
The courtroom went still.
Then he looked at me.
“I didn't.”
Warren's face hardened.
The judge leaned back.
“Then this hearing is going to be considerably more complicated than I was led to believe.”
The judge ordered Baker Landworks to produce the original option and every underlying document within twenty-four hours.
Warren's lawyer looked alarmed.
Evelyn turned toward me.
We had won the first round.
But as we left the courtroom, Warren walked past me.
He leaned close enough that only I could hear.
“You think the original will save you?”
I looked at him.
“The original of what?”
May you like
He smiled.
“The thing your mother never wanted you to find.”
