I let Logan’s call go to voicemail.
A minute later, he called again.
Then Chelsea.
Then Logan once more.
Fiona Cartwright sat across from me in the small conference room of her office, her reading glasses balanced at the end of her nose.
She didn’t look at my phone.
She kept her attention on the copies of the three envelopes we had sent.
“You don’t have to answer today,” she said.
“I know.”
“Or tomorrow.”
“I know that too.”
The phone stopped ringing.
For several seconds, the only sound in the room was the faint hum of the air-conditioning.
Fiona gathered the documents into three neat piles.
“The first envelope was from the bank,” she said.
“It confirms that your pledge of securities against Logan’s business credit line has been withdrawn.
The bank is giving him thirty days to replace the collateral or refinance the balance.”
I nodded.
“The second was the formal demand for repayment of the family loan.”
“The one for the house renovations.”
“Correct.
One hundred eighty-six thousand, four hundred dollars, plus accrued interest.
You gave them until the end of the quarter to repay it.”
“I wasn’t trying to take their house.”
“I know.”
“And the third?”
Fiona’s expression softened.
“That one is from the investment custodian.
It removes Logan and Chelsea as authorized users on the account you established for household expenses.
It also confirms that no additional transfers will be made.”
I looked down at my hands.
For six years, I had allowed myself to be treated like a guest in a house I had helped make possible.
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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