I came home from my trip and slid my key into the lock. It wouldn’t turn. I tried again. Nothing. I called my son. “Ryan… what’s going on?” He sighed. “Dad, this is for your own good. We sold the house.” Behind him, Diane nodded like it was the most reasonable thing in the world. “You’ll be better off, Walter.” I slowly sat down on the porch steps, looking at the door that used to be mine. Then I smiled… and texted my lawyer.
“It makes perfect sense,” Beverly replied. “You signed documents selling your father’s house, and in doing so you transferred it right back to your father, while also creating a clean legal record of fraud, forgery, and attempted theft.”
Diane took an involuntary step backward. “No,” she said too fast. “No, that’s not possible.”
