Chapter 3 - THE FORECLOSURE "Grandpa?" I breathed, my eyes fixed on the silver watch dangling from the boy's wrist.
Mrs. Bennett walked over and gently smoothed the boy’s hair. "This is Leo. Peter’s son."
The room spun. "Peter’s son? But Peter died twenty years ago. This boy is..."
"Six," Mrs. Bennett finished for me. She guided Leo to a chair at the kitchen table. "Peter didn't just leave me behind, Luca. He left behind frozen material. He and his fiancée, Sarah, had been planning... well, they were trying before the fire."
She paused, taking a shaky breath. "Sarah couldn't bear to use it right away. The grief was too much. She moved away, tried to start over. But she never forgot Peter. Seven years ago, she came back. She used what was left. She had Leo."
I stared at the boy. He had Peter’s jawline. Peter’s eyes.
"Where is Sarah now?" I asked.
"She passed away when Leo was three. Illness. I took him in." Mrs. Bennett poured Leo a glass of milk. "Your father found out. That’s when the Friday visits started. He wasn't just coming to keep me company. He was coming to be a grandfather to the boy his son died to save."
I felt sick. My father had been raising Peter's child, bearing the weight of our family’s debt to this house, entirely alone.
"I sent money," I said, my voice rising in a desperate need to defend myself. "I paid off this house. I set up a trust. Why didn't anyone tell me?"
Mrs. Bennett stopped wiping the counter. She turned to me, her brow furrowed. "What money, Luca?"
"The mortgage," I insisted. "Right after the fire, I made sure my company’s wealth manager paid off this house. And for the last three years, I’ve been sending a monthly stipend for your care."
Mrs. Bennett walked over to a stack of mail on the side table. She pulled out a thick, yellow envelope and slid it across the kitchen island toward me.
"I didn't want to bring this up tonight," she said quietly. "Your father was helping me pay the bank. When he passed... I couldn't keep up."
I opened the envelope. It was a final notice of foreclosure from the bank. The house was scheduled to be auctioned in less than thirty days.
"This is impossible," I said, staring at the debt amount. "I signed the payoff authorization myself twenty years ago. I sign the stipend checks every quarter."
"I haven't received a dime from you or your company, Luca. Ever."
My phone buzzed violently in my pocket. It was Vivienne.
I answered it. "Vivienne. I'm busy."
"You left your own father’s memorial," her voice hissed through the speaker, sharp and furious. "Your board members are here. My father is here. You are embarrassing us, Luca."
"Vivienne, did you or your father’s wealth management firm ever handle the Bennett trust?"
Silence hung on the line for a second too long.
"I don't know what you're talking about," she finally said, her tone suddenly clipped. "Come back to the house. Now."
She hung up.
I looked down at the foreclosure notice. The servicing company listed at the top was Vanguard Equities. Vivienne’s father’s firm.
"I’m going to fix this," I told Mrs. Bennett, my voice shaking with a sudden, dark rage.
"Luca," Leo piped up from the table. He was holding something out to me. "Your dad told me to give you this if you ever came back."
May you like
It was a small, sealed envelope. Across the front, in my father’s rugged handwriting, were three words.
Check the floorboards.
Related Stories
