Chapter 4 - Eleven O’Clock at Grand Avenue
Colleen did not sleep.
She sat beside the hotel window while Tristan rested in the bed behind her. Every few minutes, headlights crossed the wall, briefly illuminating the chair where Ethan had been sitting before he left.
On the desk were copies of the power of attorney, the proposed deed, and the purchase agreement bearing Florence’s impossible signature.
Each page revealed another layer of Greg’s deception.
At 1:17 a.m., Colleen received a message from him.
Where are you?
She did not answer.
A second message followed.
I checked the urgent care centers. You aren’t registered anywhere.
Colleen’s pulse quickened.
Tristan stirred beneath the blanket.
She silenced her phone, but Greg kept calling. On the seventh attempt, she answered.
“Hello?”
“Where are you?” he demanded.
“Tristan was upset, so I brought him to a hotel.”
“What hotel?”
“I’m not telling you while you’re yelling.”
“I’m his stepfather.”
“And I’m his mother.”
Silence filled the line.
Greg changed his voice, replacing anger with wounded patience.
“Colleen, I’m worried. You disappeared with no explanation.”
“Tristan heard you talking about Florence’s house.”
Another silence.
This one was different.
“What did he hear?”
“You tell me.”
Greg exhaled slowly.
“I was discussing an appraisal.”
“You said you were selling it tomorrow.”
“He misunderstood.”
“He heard a price and a meeting at the notary’s office.”
Greg’s tone hardened.
“Put Tristan on the phone.”
“No.”
“You’re letting a child create problems in our marriage.”
“You created the problem.”
“Come home. We’ll discuss it like adults.”
Colleen looked at the forged signature.
“Did Florence sign a purchase agreement after she died?”
Greg said nothing.
That silence was his confession.
Colleen ended the call.
Moments later, a new message appeared.
You have no idea what you’re interfering with.
She forwarded it to Ethan.
He called immediately.
“Do not leave that hotel room. Security has his photograph. Caroline is arranging formal service of the revocation for seven tomorrow morning.”
“What if he finds us?”
“He won’t.”
“You sound certain.”
“I am not certain. I am prepared.”
His honesty steadied her more than false reassurance would have.
Colleen lowered her voice.
“Did you ever look for me?”
“For three years.”
She closed her eyes.
“I changed my last name to Wiley after Tristan was born. Florence said it would be safer.”
“Safer from whom?”
“She never explained.”
After Ethan disappeared, Florence had become unusually protective. She moved Colleen into the Oakridge house and refused to let visitors know she was there.
Six months later, Greg appeared.
He claimed he had recently learned what happened and offered to help. He brought groceries, repaired a leaking pipe, and drove Colleen to pediatric appointments.
At first, she viewed him as a friend connected to the life Ethan had abandoned.
Over time, Greg became the person who explained Ethan’s silence.
“He said you moved to California,” Colleen told Ethan. “He said you were engaged to a judge’s daughter.”
“I never lived in California.”
“I know that now.”
“He didn’t simply lie once. He fed each of us different stories.”
“Yes.”
A soft sound came from the bed.
Tristan was awake.
“You can talk normally,” he said. “I already know he’s my father.”
Colleen turned around.
Her son sat with the blanket around his shoulders.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Why?”
“For every time you asked about your dad and I told you he chose another life.”
“You believed it.”
“That doesn’t make it hurt less.”
Tristan looked toward the phone in her hand.
“Can I talk to Ethan?”
Colleen passed it to him.
Tristan held the phone awkwardly.
“Did you really buy a crib?”
“Yes.”
“What color?”
“White. I assembled it backward twice.”
Tristan almost smiled.
“Do you still have it?”
“No. I donated it after three years.”
“Oh.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
Neither knew what to say next.
Finally, Tristan asked, “Are you coming tomorrow?”
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
The next morning began before sunrise.
At 7:02 a.m., a process server delivered the revocation of power of attorney to Greg at the apartment. Greg refused to open the door, so the server announced the document and left a copy according to legal procedure.
At 7:11, Greg called Colleen seventeen times.
At 7:30, Ethan arrived at the hotel with breakfast and a dark wool coat for Tristan.
Caroline joined them by video call.
“I filed the emergency petition,” she explained. “The judge will review it at nine.”
“What happens if the judge refuses?” Colleen asked.
“The notary has independent authority to suspend a transaction where fraud is suspected. But the restraining order gives us stronger protection.”
At 8:46, Caroline received confirmation that a hearing would be held in chambers.
At 9:14, the judge signed a temporary order prohibiting Greg, Wayne, or anyone acting for them from transferring, mortgaging, or encumbering the Oakridge property.
Colleen held the printed order as though it were a shield.
Ethan looked at Tristan.
“Your mother’s house is protected.”
“For now,” Caroline warned. “We still need evidence for the permanent case.”
Ethan drove them toward Grand Avenue.
During the ride, Colleen stared through the window.
“I keep thinking about Florence.”
“She was afraid,” Ethan said.
“Of Greg?”
“Possibly.”
“Then why leave me the house without explaining?”
“Maybe she was trying to correct something before she died.”
They reached the notary’s office at 10:20.
Evelyn Morrison, the senior notary, led them through a side entrance into a private observation room separated from the main conference area by one-way glass.
“Greg believes the transaction is proceeding,” she explained. “The buyer and developer’s representative have both confirmed attendance.”
“Does he know about the court order?” Colleen asked.
“He was served. Whether he respects it is another question.”
At 10:43, Wayne Robles arrived.
He was shorter than Greg, with thinning hair and a tan overcoat. He carried a folder stamped with the name of a shell company created only four months earlier.
At 10:51, Greg entered.
Colleen’s stomach twisted.
He wore the navy suit she had purchased for him with three months of saved overtime pay. He looked relaxed and confident, as though stealing Florence’s house were merely another business meeting.
The developer’s representative arrived at 10:55.
Greg checked his watch.
At exactly eleven, Evelyn entered the conference room.
“Mr. Robles, before we begin, I need you to confirm your authority to act on behalf of Colleen Wiley.”
Greg slid the power of attorney across the table.
“This document grants me full authority.”
“Are you aware that it was revoked this morning?”
Greg did not blink.
“I have not received valid notice.”
“You were personally served at seven.”
“The service was defective.”
Evelyn placed the court order beside his hand.
“Are you aware of this restraining order?”
Greg’s confidence flickered.
Wayne leaned toward him.
“You said there wouldn’t be any problem.”
“There isn’t.”
Greg turned toward Evelyn.
“My wife is emotionally unstable. She has been manipulated by an attorney who holds a personal grudge against me.”
Behind the glass, Ethan’s expression hardened.
Greg continued.
“The power of attorney was signed voluntarily. The transaction benefits our household.”
“At eight hundred thousand dollars?” Evelyn asked. “For property you have already contracted to resell for $3.2 million?”
Wayne pushed back from the table.
“You didn’t tell her about that?”
Greg ignored him.
“The difference covers development risk.”
Evelyn opened another folder.
“And Florence Wiley’s signature?”
Greg’s face tightened.
“She approved the structure before her death.”
“Then why is the agreement dated six days afterward?”
The developer’s representative stood.
“I was told all documents were authentic.”
Greg’s control began to crack.
“This meeting is over.”
He grabbed the power of attorney and moved toward the door.
Evelyn pressed a button beneath the table.
Two investigators from the county financial crimes unit entered.
Greg stopped.
“You cannot detain me.”
“No one is detaining you,” one investigator said. “We’re asking you to answer questions regarding suspected forgery and attempted property fraud.”
Greg looked around the room.
Then he saw the door behind the glass open.
Colleen stepped into the conference room with Tristan beside her and Ethan behind them.
For the first time, Greg looked afraid.
“You,” he said to Ethan.
Ethan approached slowly.
“Yes.”
Greg’s eyes moved to Tristan.
“You went through my private conversations?”
“You planned to steal my mother’s house,” Tristan answered.
“I was securing your future.”
“No. You were selling it.”
Colleen placed Florence’s note on the table.
“This house is your foundation. Don’t let anyone take it away from you.”
Greg’s mouth twisted.
“You think that old house will save you? You can’t even afford the taxes.”
“I can learn.”
“You don’t understand property, contracts, or money. Without me, you’ll lose everything in a year.”
Colleen’s hands trembled, but her voice remained steady.
“I would rather lose it through my own mistakes than let you steal it through yours.”
Greg looked at Ethan.
“You filled her head with this.”
“I haven’t had enough time,” Ethan said. “You spent twelve years doing that.”
Something passed across Greg’s face.
Recognition.
Ethan saw it.
“You remember the email,” he said.
Greg looked toward the investigators.
“I have no idea what you mean.”
“You accessed Colleen’s account from the legal aid office. You told me she lost the baby. You told her I left the state.”
“That was more than a decade ago.”
It was not a denial.
Colleen recoiled.
Tristan stared at Greg with open disbelief.
“You knew who my father was?”
Greg pointed at Ethan.
“He would have left eventually.”
“You made him leave,” Colleen whispered.
“I protected you.”
“From what?”
“From a man who thought he was too good for us.”
Ethan’s voice became dangerously calm.
“You didn’t protect her. You isolated her.”
Greg reached for the transaction folder.
An investigator blocked his hand.
“We’ll need that.”
Wayne began talking rapidly, insisting that Greg had prepared every document and promised the deal was legal.
Greg turned on him.
“Shut up.”
The developer’s representative handed over emails showing that Greg had negotiated the resale personally.
The room filled with accusations.
Yet Colleen heard only one thing.
Greg had admitted involvement in the lie that separated her from Ethan.
She stepped closer.
“Did Florence know?”
Greg’s eyes shifted.
“Answer me.”
“She learned the truth eventually.”
“When?”
“A few months before she died.”
“Did she confront you?”
Greg said nothing.
Colleen’s knees weakened.
“What did you do to her?”
“I didn’t touch her.”
“Then why did she sign that note telling me not to let anyone take the house?”
Greg smiled without warmth.
“Because she knew I had already won.”
The investigator instructed Greg to remain in the room.
As officers began securing the documents, Caroline called Ethan.
“I found something in the probate file,” she said.
“What?”
“Florence left a sealed statement with the executor. It was scheduled to be released only if anyone attempted to transfer the house within one year of her death.”
Ethan looked toward Colleen.
Florence had expected Greg to act.
May you like
And from beyond the grave, she had prepared one final way to stop him.
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