Chapter 3 - They Came to Take My HouseThe first man reached the front steps before security stopped him.
“Private property,” Daniel said.
The man held up a tablet.
“We're here for the wedding setup.”
“There is no wedding setup scheduled today.”
He frowned.
“The bride confirmed this morning.”
I stepped outside.
“I’m the homeowner.”
The man's expression changed.
He looked relieved.
“Perfect. We just need the authorization form signed by you.”
I stared at him.
“The authorization form is forged.”
His face went pale.
“What?”
“You heard me.”
Behind him, more workers were unloading equipment.
One of the lighting technicians froze.
A florist whispered something to another employee.
Daniel moved closer.
“Nobody unloads another item.”
The workers stopped.
I walked down the steps.
“Who hired you?”
The man checked his tablet.
“Marissa Bennett.”
“Who paid you?”
“Initial deposit came from Bellmore Estate Consulting.”
Vivian, standing behind me, looked at Daniel.
That name again.
Bellmore.
I looked back at the man.
“What were you told?”
“That the estate owner approved private access from Wednesday through Sunday.”
“Did anyone provide proof?”
He held out the tablet.
A scanned document.
My forged signature.
Beside it was a copy of my driver's license.
I felt something colder than anger move through me.
They had copied my identity.
“This is fraud,” Vivian said.
The man immediately stepped backward.
“We're just contractors.”
“I know.”
I looked at the trucks.
“Then leave.”
He hesitated.
“We have nonrefundable bookings.”
“Take that up with whoever hired you.”
He looked over my shoulder.
Then back at me.
“Could we at least unload the floral equipment?”
“No.”
“The ceremony begins Saturday.”
“No.”
“The bride was very clear.”
I smiled.
“Then you should ask the bride why she thought she could break into my house.”
The man's face tightened.
“Break in?”
“Yes.”
That finally got their attention.
Within ten minutes, every truck had left.
Or at least, most of them had.
One white van remained.
The driver refused to leave.
Daniel approached the window.
“Sir, you need to move.”
The driver rolled it down halfway.
“I have a private delivery.”
“What delivery?”
“Documents.”
“For whom?”
The driver glanced at me.
“For the bride.”
“I’m Claire Bennett.”
He looked uncomfortable.
“She told me to deliver these directly to you.”
I held out my hand.
He gave me a sealed envelope.
No company logo.
No return address.
Just my name.
Claire Bennett.
I opened it.
Inside was a single sheet.
PROPERTY ACCESS AGREEMENT
At the bottom was the same forged signature.
But this time there was something else.
A second signature.
Thomas Cole.
Ethan's father.
And beside his name was a title.
Authorized Property Representative.
I looked up.
Vivian took the document from my hand.
“This is much worse.”
“How?”
“Because they're not just pretending you allowed the wedding.”
She pointed to the text.
“They're claiming Thomas has authority to act on your behalf.”
I shook my head.
“He doesn't.”
“Exactly.”
I felt dizzy.
“Then why would anyone believe this?”
Vivian's eyes hardened.
“Because they're creating a paper trail.”
For what?
Neither of us said it.
We didn't need to.
I suddenly remembered the structural surveyor.
The locksmith.
The property transition company.
The document storage company.
They weren't preparing for a wedding.
They were preparing for control.
That afternoon, I confronted Marissa by phone.
She answered casually.
“Hey.”
“Why are vendors at my house?”
Silence.
Then she laughed.
“Oh. That.”
“That?”
“You're making this bigger than it is.”
“You forged my signature.”
“What?”
“Don't lie.”
She exhaled.
“Claire, everyone knows the house is being used for the wedding.”
“No.”
“Well, I already sent the invitations.”
“That's not my problem.”
“You're embarrassing me.”
“I don't care.”
She went quiet.
Then her voice changed.
“Dad said you agreed.”
I stared at the wall.
“Dad?”
“Yes.”
“Dad told you I agreed?”
“Yes.”
“Did he give you permission?”
“He said he handled everything.”
My hand tightened around the phone.
“Where is he?”
“He's with me.”
“Put him on.”
“No.”
“Marissa.”
“He's busy.”
“Then tell him I'm coming.”
She laughed softly.
“Claire, don't.”
“Why?”
A pause.
Then she said,
“Because once you see what we've done, you might change your mind.”
The call ended.
I stared at the phone.
Vivian looked at me.
“What did she say?”
I slowly raised my eyes.
“She said I might change my mind.”
Daniel frowned.
“About the wedding?”
“No.”
I looked toward the hallway.
“About the house.”
That evening, security found something else.
Someone had attempted to access my basement door using an old key.
The lock had fresh scratches.
Daniel showed me the footage.
At 3:17 A.M., a man in a maintenance jacket stood outside the basement.
He looked directly at the camera.
Then he smiled.
He wasn't trying to hide.
He raised something toward the lens.
A piece of paper.
Then he walked away.
Daniel zoomed in.
The paper had only three words.
WE KNOW WHERE IT IS.
I stared at the screen.
“Where what is?”
Daniel shook his head.
“I don't know.”
May you like
But I suddenly remembered my grandfather.
And the locked room he had once told me never to open.
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