Chapter 7 - The Dinner They Expected Me to Pay ForKaren's Family Arrives With a PlanThe next morning, Karen acted normal.
That scared me more than anger would've.
She made coffee.
Asked if I slept well.
Complained about traffic.
Then she said:
“My parents want to have dinner tonight.”
I looked at her.
“Why?”
“To talk.”
“About?”
“Our marriage.”
I nodded.
“Okay.”
Her shoulders relaxed.
She thought I was surrendering.
I wasn't.
I spent the entire day working with Melissa and the bank.
By four o'clock, we had confirmed something important.
The credit application carried my name.
But the digital access history came from Karen's laptop.
That alone wasn't enough.
We needed more.
We got it.
A message between Karen and her father:
Rick won't notice the monthly payments.
Then another:
Once the lien is placed, he won't have a choice.
The final message was from Thomas Vale.
Do not let Jack speak to Rick before closing.
I read that sentence three times.
That meant Dad wasn't merely an obstacle.
He was the person they feared most.
At seven that evening, Karen's parents arrived.
Her father, Richard Monroe, walked in wearing a suit that probably cost more than my pickup.
Her mother followed behind him.
She looked around.
Then said:
“Much nicer without Jack here.”
I felt my jaw tighten.
I smiled.
“Please sit.”
We ate in silence.
Then Richard put down his fork.
“Rick, you need to think practically.”
“About?”
“Your future.”
Karen reached for my hand.
I let her.
Her father continued.
“Your father's property is a liability.”
“No.”
Richard frowned.
“The taxes alone…”
“I've seen the reports.”
He looked surprised.
Karen squeezed my hand.
“You've been researching?”
“Yes.”
Richard leaned back.
“Then you know the market is changing.”
“I also know someone offered two-point-one million.”
He went quiet.
Karen looked at her father.
He looked at her.
Then they both looked at me.
I smiled.
“So let's stop pretending.”
Richard's face hardened.
“You misunderstand the situation.”
“No.”
I put my phone on the table.
“And before we continue, I want you to know we're being recorded.”
Karen nearly jumped.
“What?”
Melissa had advised me to document every conversation.
Richard stood.
“You can't do this.”
I looked at him.
“You opened a credit line in my name.”
His face went white.
Karen began crying.
“Dad, I told you he knew.”
Richard looked at her.
Then back at me.
“You have no idea what you're accusing me of.”
“Then explain it.”
Nobody spoke.
Finally, Richard sat down.
“We were trying to protect Karen.”
“By using my property?”
“By preventing you from losing everything.”
I laughed.
“My father owns the property.”
Richard shook his head.
“Not for long.”
He pulled a document from his briefcase.
“Read this.”
I took it.
A preliminary purchase agreement.
My name appeared at the bottom.
My signature too.
But this signature was wrong.
Close.
Very close.
Still wrong.
I looked at Karen.
“Who forged this?”
She started crying.
“I didn't.”
Her father stood.
“I did.”
The room went silent.
I slowly looked up.
Richard didn't blink.
“I believed I was acting in my daughter's best interest.”
“That's forgery.”
He shrugged.
“Only if it goes to court.”
There it was.
The arrogance.
The confidence.
The belief that money made consequences negotiable.
I stood.
“Dinner is over.”
Richard laughed.
“You think you can simply walk away?”
I looked at him.
“Yes.”
He leaned forward.
“You don't understand how many people have already invested in this deal.”
I smiled.
“That sounds like their problem.”
Then my phone buzzed.
A message from Melissa.
DO NOT SIGN ANYTHING.
A second message appeared.
WE FOUND THE ORIGINAL.
I stared at the screen.
Karen noticed my expression.
“What?”
I put the phone away.
“Nothing.”
I walked her parents to the door.
Richard stopped before leaving.
“You're making a very expensive mistake.”
I looked him in the eyes.
“No.”
I opened the door.
“Your mistake was thinking I was stupid.”
His face changed.
Then he left.
I closed the door.
Karen stood behind me.
“Rick…”
I turned.
She was crying.
“Please.”
I looked at her.
“What?”
She whispered:
“The original document isn't what you think.”
I stared.
“What do you mean?”
She shook her head.
“There's another name on it.”
“Whose?”
She wiped her tears.
Then said:
May you like
“Your mother's.”
:::
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