Paying three hundred thousand dollars of debt before being ordered out of the house
The document listed Marcus Webb as the grantor. The grantee line was filled in with a name that made my breath catch, though I kept my face completely still in the dim light of the desk lamp.
I turned the page to the signature block. At the bottom of the sheet, the witness line was blank, but the grantor line carried a signature.
The signature matched the hurried, slanting loops of Marcus’s handwriting, the ink slightly uneven at the tail of the double-b.
It was a signature executed without my knowledge, conveying our shared home. My finger traced the black lines on the paper, noting the slight tremor in the pen stroke.
The date of the notary stamp was the exact day Marcus had asked me to clear his business credit cards. I closed the blue folder and slid it back into the bottom of the drawer, turning the key in the lock.
I sat in the quiet room for a long time, listening to the wind against the windowpane. The green leather ledger remained on top of the desk, its blank cover reflecting the yellow light of the lamp.
