Chapter 6 - The Papers Hidden in My Condo
The ambulance sped toward San Francisco with its lights flashing through the darkness.
I lay on the stretcher, staring at the ceiling.
My head throbbed with every bump in the road.
But the pain wasn't what occupied my mind.
I couldn't stop thinking about those documents.
Three months earlier, Adrian had smiled as he slid the papers across our kitchen table.
"Just routine insurance forms."
That was what he'd called them.
I remembered reaching for a pen.
Then something had caught my attention.
A single phrase.
Transfer of Real Property Interest.
I had frowned.
"Why does an insurance form mention my condo?"
Adrian hadn't missed a beat.
"Oh, that's the wrong packet."
"My attorney mixed up another client's paperwork."
He had laughed.
I had laughed too.
Now I realized neither laugh had been genuine.
The ambulance pulled into the emergency entrance.
Doctors and nurses were already waiting.
Within minutes, I was wheeled into a treatment room.
A young emergency physician introduced herself.
"I'm Dr. Patel."
"We're going to take good care of you."
She carefully removed the temporary bandage.
The nurse winced.
"That's a nasty cut."
Dr. Patel examined the wound under a bright light.
"You'll need several stitches."
She looked me in the eyes.
"Did you lose consciousness?"
"I don't think so."
"Any nausea?"
"A little."
"Blurred vision?"
"Off and on."
She nodded.
"We're ordering a CT scan immediately."
As the nurse started an IV, my phone vibrated on the bedside table.
The screen displayed an unknown number.
I ignored it.
A few seconds later, it rang again.
The same number.
Then a third time.
The nurse looked at me.
"Do you want me to silence it?"
"Please."
She switched the phone to silent mode.
Almost immediately, text messages began appearing.
One after another.
I picked up the phone.
The first message read:
You don't understand what you've done.
The second followed seconds later.
Drop the charges before it's too late.
My stomach tightened.
There was no name attached.
Only a blocked number.
The third message appeared.
Some things are worth more than a condo.
A cold chill ran down my spine.
The nurse noticed my expression.
"Everything okay?"
I turned the phone toward her.
"I think someone's threatening me."
She immediately notified hospital security.
Within minutes, two officers stationed at the hospital arrived outside my room.
One of them introduced himself.
"We'll remain nearby until the detectives arrive."
I thanked him quietly.
For the first time that night, I felt even slightly safe.
An hour later, Detective Ryan Mercer walked into my room carrying a folder.
His tie was loosened.
He looked exhausted.
But his eyes were sharp.
"How are you feeling?"
"I've been better."
He offered a sympathetic smile.
"The doctors say you'll recover."
"That's the important part."
He placed the folder on the bedside table.
"We searched public property records."
My pulse quickened.
"And?"
"There have been no changes to the title of your condo."
I let out the breath I didn't realize I was holding.
"So it's still mine."
"Yes."
"But..."
There was that word again.
"But."
"We also found something unusual."
He opened the folder.
Inside was a copy of a legal filing.
It wasn't signed.
But my name appeared at the top.
"What is this?"
"It's a draft quitclaim deed."
I stared at the paper.
It listed me as the grantor.
The recipient was Adrian Caldwell.
The document would have transferred my condo to him for exactly...
One dollar.
I felt sick.
"This isn't my signature."
"We know."
"It was never recorded."
"Probably because you refused to sign."
I looked closer.
Near the bottom of the page was the name of the law office that had prepared it.
Harrison & Cole Legal Group.
"I've never heard of them."
Detective Mercer nodded.
"Neither had I."
"So I started digging."
He slid another document across the bed.
"Harrison & Cole has represented Caldwell Vineyards for nearly fifteen years."
I wasn't surprised.
What shocked me came next.
"The attorney who drafted this deed resigned last month."
"Why?"
"He disappeared."
I looked up sharply.
"What do you mean disappeared?"
"He cleaned out his office."
"Closed every bank account."
"Canceled his phone."
"And hasn't been seen since."
The room suddenly felt colder.
"Do you think he ran?"
"I don't know."
"But the timing is interesting."
Before I could answer, another detective hurried into the room.
He carried a laptop.
"Ryan."
"You need to hear this."
He opened an audio file recovered from the flash drive Maya had surrendered.
Static filled the room.
Then voices.
Charles Caldwell.
Eleanor.
And Adrian.
The recording was dated five months earlier.
Charles spoke first.
"We need the condo before the divorce."
My heart stopped.
Divorce?
I had never even mentioned divorce.
Adrian laughed.
"Claire will sign."
"If she doesn't..."
He paused.
"I'll make sure she does."
Silence followed.
Then Eleanor's cold voice broke it.
"If persuasion fails..."
"...fear usually works."
The recording ended.
No one in the room spoke.
Detective Mercer slowly closed the laptop.
His jaw tightened.
"This wasn't about helping Eleanor."
He looked directly at me.
"They were planning to take your home long before tonight."
I stared at the ceiling, struggling to process everything.
The dinner.
The assault.
The forged paperwork.
The hidden recordings.
The threats.
None of it had been spontaneous.
It had all been planned.
Every step.
Every lie.
Every manipulation.
But one question refused to leave my mind.
If they had been planning this for months...
Why were they suddenly in such a hurry?
What had changed?
Before Detective Mercer could answer, his phone rang.
He listened for several seconds.
Then his face turned pale.
He slowly lowered the phone and looked at me.
"We have another problem."
"What happened?"
May you like
He took a deep breath.
"Someone broke into your condo... less than twenty minutes ago."
