“Emily, he gave your house to his daddy. They are playing for keeps. We need public pressure. It makes settling our way more attractive to them.”
Her phone buzzed. She glanced at it.
“Speak of the devil. It’s Henderson’s office. Want to listen?”
She put it on speaker.
“Chloe Klein.”
“Ms. Klein, this is Martin Henderson. I’m calling regarding your rather inflammatory letter to the Wright family.”
“I’m sure you are, Martin.”
“My client has a simple demand.”
“Undo the fraud.”
“Fraud is a strong and libelous word. My clients acted in good faith to protect both parties in a complex asset purchase. The land trust is a common vehicle for liability protection. Your client’s misunderstanding does not constitute fraud.”
I saw Chloe’s eyes harden.
“Misunderstanding? Your client, Daniel Wright, on a recorded line, admitted to not fully understanding the trust’s terms, despite it granting him sole control over an asset funded predominantly by my client. That’s fraud in the inducement. Then, upon being confronted, he attempted to further alienate her interest by assigning it to his father. That’s conversion. We have the recording, Martin. We have the paper trail. We will win. And when we do, we will be seeking legal fees from your firm for your role in this good-faith endeavor.”
There was a long silence.
“A recording?”
“Yes, Martin. Of a dinner conversation last night. One-party consent state. Perfectly admissible. Would you like me to play you the part where your client stammers through his non-explanation?”
His tone shifted at once, becoming slicker, more conciliatory.
“Ms. Klein, surely we can resolve this without dragging these fine families through the mud. My clients are willing to buy out Ms. Lawson’s beneficial interest at the original contribution amount, one hundred twenty thousand dollars. A clean break.”
I felt a surge of nausea. They wanted to give me back my initial money and keep the property, the appreciation, everything. Chloe laughed, a short, sharp sound.
“Not a chance. The demand stands. Full title correction. Forty-eight hours. The clock started an hour ago.”
She hung up, then looked at me.
“They’re scared. The recording changes everything. Now they’ll try to go around me. They’ll call you. They’ll beg. They’ll threaten. You say one thing. Talk to my lawyer. Then hang up. Understood?”
My phone buzzed in my hand. Daniel. I showed the screen to Chloe.
“Do it.”
I answered and put him on speaker.
“Talk to my lawyer.”
“Emily, wait, please just listen.” His voice was ragged, panicked. “You can’t do this. You recorded my family at a private dinner. That’s sick.”
“Talk to my lawyer,” I repeated, my voice monotone.
“My dad is talking about suing you for defamation. Henderson says you have no case. They’ll ruin you. You’ll never work in this town again.”
Chloe mouthed threat and pointed to her phone, already recording the call.
“Is that a threat regarding my professional livelihood, Daniel?” I asked, making my voice coldly curious. “Because my lawyer is listening, and that’s legally very interesting.”
He gasped, realizing too late that he had stepped into another trap.
“I didn’t—I just mean… God, Emily, this is all a mistake. Just come home. We can fix this. I’ll fix the trust thing.”
“How?” I asked. “By asking your daddy to sign his half back over? And then what? I become the Keeper of the Heart? No, thanks. Talk to my lawyer.”
“You’re being unreasonable. It’s just a house. It’s just some paperwork. Why are you destroying our future over paperwork?”
The sheer, staggering ignorance of the question took my breath away.
“It’s not paperwork, Daniel. It’s respect. It’s integrity. You have none. Talk to my lawyer.”
And I ended the call.
Chloe gave a low whistle.
“Beautiful. He just gift-wrapped an extortion and coercion argument for us.”
Her computer chimed. She looked at the screen, and her smirk faded.
“Well. Jessica didn’t wait for the Tribune. She posted.”
