My Husband Sold My Two Million Dollar Land For Five Dollars To His Girlfriend
He wrote my name at the top of the clean white sheet in his large, looping script.
“You cannot carry a two-thousand-dollar monthly feed bill on your personal books, Tom,” I said.
“Your daddy carried me through the drought of eighty-four,” Tom said, looking up with a hard set to his jaw. “I am not letting your stock starve because your husband decided to lose his mind.”
He shut the ledger with a soft thud that echoed in the quiet store.
“Go see Marcus,” Tom said. “He was looking for you.”
I thanked him, my throat tight, and walked back out to my truck.
The sun was high and hot by the time I reached the county courthouse in the middle of town.
Marcus Fitzgerald was waiting on the concrete steps, his wire-rimmed glasses held in his hand as he polished them with a small silk cloth.
“The bank is moving faster than we anticipated,” Marcus said as I reached the top step.
“Tom told me they froze the operating accounts,” I said.
“They had to,” Marcus said, placing his glasses back on his nose. “With a disputed deed of that size, the legal department plays it safe.”
