my husband.
“Why is Sabrina wearing my ring?”
He glanced toward the door.
“I gave it to her to hold,” he said finally.
My mouth went dry.
“Why?”
He rubbed his forehead.
“I was distracted.
She said she’d keep it safe while I was dealing with everything.”
I looked down at our children.
He had missed the delivery, yet somehow found time to meet Sabrina and hand her the ring I had trusted him to protect.
Detective Calder told him that investigators would need a fuller account of his movements and communications.
He began protesting, but my nurse stepped forward.
“Mr.
Mercer, your wife needs rest.
Please continue this conversation outside.”
He turned toward me.
“Anna, don’t let them twist this.
You know I would never deliberately hurt you.”
I looked at the two sleeping babies.
“You just tried to take my son away from his sister.”
He opened his mouth.
I raised one hand.
“Please leave.”
For once, he did.
The detective stayed long enough to take my initial statement, then allowed me to rest.
Nina joined the conversation by telephone after confirming with the nurse that I was well enough to continue.
The next few hours moved slowly.
Nina prepared a sworn statement confirming that I had never signed or authorized the transfer.
She contacted the lender’s attorneys and supplied notice of the alleged forgery.
The lender placed the proposed disbursement on hold.
Nina also began emergency civil proceedings to protect the title while the criminal investigation continued.
That mattered because even a forged deed, once recorded, can create a serious problem in the property records.
The fraudulent instrument did not make Sabrina the rightful owner, but its existence could cloud the title until the matter was formally resolved.
I learned that lesson while lying in a hospital bed, unable to lift my own suitcase.
That afternoon, my mother-in-law called.
Elaine’s voice was sharp with panic.
“Anna, what have you done? Sabrina says the financing is frozen.
Thomas is beside himself.”
I closed my eyes.
“Elaine, the house belongs to my company.
It has for months.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Did you ever ask who actually purchased it?”
She hesitated.
“Sabrina said she had arranged everything.”
“Arranged what, Elaine? My money paid for that house.
My company signed your lease.
Nina handled the transaction.
Sabrina didn’t rescue you.”
For several seconds, I heard only Elaine breathing.
Then she whispered, “You should have told us.”
I could hardly believe it.
I had spent hundreds of thousands of dollars preserving their home, and her first instinct was to blame me for keeping it private.
“I was going to tell you after the babies arrived,” I answered.
“But right now, I’m recovering from surgery, and your son is trying to take one of my children.”
Elaine began crying.
She said Sabrina had promised that the farmhouse would remain in the family forever.
She said Thomas had believed the financing would pay for major renovations and eliminate their worries.
I explained that a loan against the house would have placed the property at risk again.
Then I told her something important.
“Your lease is still valid.
I’m not throwing you out.
But I will not let anyone use your home as an excuse to steal from me or threaten my children.”
She
