“They didn’t check.”
“They didn’t know what to check,” he corrected.
Fair.
Morales leaned forward.
“So they forged a deed,” she said. “Attempted to sell a property they don’t legally own while also committing financial fraud using a forged power of attorney.”
Dalton whistled quietly.
“That’s not a mistake,” he said. “That’s a pattern.”
Exactly.
“They planning to pocket the money?” he asked.
I pictured Chloe’s watch and the way she had told me they made my room nice.
“Yes,” I said.
“All of it?”
I nodded.
“All right,” he said. “Then we don’t warn them.”
Morales agreed.
I leaned forward.
“What’s the fastest way to stop this?”
Dalton answered immediately.
“Lis pendens,” he said.
Once filed, the transaction stopped.
No sale.
No clean title.
No access to the property until the dispute was resolved.
“And the trust?” Morales asked.
“We record it,” Dalton said. “Public record. That kills their claim completely.”
“Do it.”
If we moved quickly, everything could be filed when the county clerk opened at eight the next morning.
“I’ll be there,” I said.
Morales closed the folder.
“I’m opening an official report on the financial side,” she said. “This will trigger an investigation into Vance’s conduct under UCMJ.”
“Understood.”
She studied me.
“You’re handling this well,” she said.
“I’ve had worse problems.”
That earned a small smile.
The meeting ended in under an hour.
No drama.
Only process.
At eight the next morning, Dalton was already waiting at the county clerk’s office with coffee and paperwork.
“You’re on time,” he said.
“I don’t miss deadlines.”
We filed the lis pendens.
Stamped.
Recorded.
Then the trust documentation.
Public record.
Permanent.
Dalton handed me the receipt.
“That’s it,” he said. “They’re done.”
The pages weighed almost nothing.
But they carried everything.
“Now we wait,” he said.
I had no problem waiting.
By late afternoon, my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
Then a voicemail.
Richard.
“Who the hell is this developer talking about?” his voice snapped through the speaker. “They’re saying there is a legal dispute on the property. That the title is invalid. What did you do?”
I listened without replying.
“You need to call me back now.”
The message ended.
I could picture him pacing the living room, trying to understand how a deal he believed was finished had collapsed.
