authorization are resolved, the acquisition cannot proceed.”
Kayla stared at me in horror.
“You’re destroying my life.”
I nearly responded.
Then Rachel touched my arm.
Her phone had buzzed.
She looked at the screen.
Her entire expression changed.
“Natalie,” she said quietly, “I need to show you something.”
She turned the phone toward me.
It was an email from a title investigator Rachel had hired that morning to trace the mortgage Dad kept mentioning.
An attachment showed a recorded deed.
I read the first line.
Then stopped.
“This has to
