My Husband Sold My Two Million Dollar Land For Five Dollars To His Girlfriend
“What are we going to do with it?” Katie asked, her pale eyes wide as she looked at me.
“We are taking it to the sheriff’s office,” I said, sliding the papers into a heavy brown envelope. “Your father thinks he can keep us tied up in civil court for years while he drains the remaining value of the stock.”
“He told me he would pay my tuition if I convinced you to sign the release,” Katie said, her head dropping as she pulled her sleeves tighter. “He said the ranch was failing anyway.”
“The ranch is not failing, Katie,” I said, rising from the table. “He is.”
The county sheriff’s office was located in the basement of the old red brick courthouse, smelling of floor wax, wet wool, and the stale tobacco of thirty years of deputies’ shifts.
Marcus Fitzgerald was already standing near the water cooler, his gray wool suit immaculate despite the dust blowing across the square outside. He took off his wire-rimmed glasses, polished them with a small silk cloth, and nodded as I walked through the heavy double doors.
