In so many words, Bornstein said this was mostly about reclaiming ownership, loyalty, and family for the guy. All things she could get behind. After all, weren’t they the same things she wanted? At least that was what Sophia thought she was trying to do—for her, and for everything Ainsley meant to her.
It's not like she was trying to deprive anyone else. The house meant those same things to Sophia.
"It doesn't look good," he said, again. "There's no point in sugarcoating this. We have a case, but he has all the cards."
"But the house is listed in the divorce decree." Even to her own ears, Sophia sounded breathless and desperate.
"I'm not saying a quitclaim deed is worthless, but we need to be realistic here. He has the original deed to the property, and our motion to dismiss has been denied. Monroe's got an edge going for him, if only because he's got time on his side, but he hasn't won—"
"Yet," Sophia snapped back and immediately felt like an asshole. "I'm sorry." She wasn't mad at Bornstein. He was on her side—her only hope, really. But the whole situation felt hopeless. She knew nothing about real estate and deeds and petitions. They were all foreign to her because Austin usually took care of the paperwork and told her where to sign.
Bornstein leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Denial of a motion to dismiss doesn't mean he's been awarded anything," he said soothingly, seemingly catching on to her tendency to jump to conclusions.
"We've got our work cut out for us on this. The deed is important, but it's not what worries me most," he said, slow and measured.
"There's more." It wasn't a question. It was acceptance. What she expected all along. She ran her hands along the nape of her neck and turned away, waiting for him to just say what he had to say.
The window, spattered in raindrops, gave only a blurred view of the sun covered in a blanket of clouds and mist. Sophia listened for the most worrisome part, as one after another, the drops streamed down like tears.
"Barbara Monroe was seventy-three and showing signs of middle-stage dementia," he said.
Sophia sighed and closed her eyes. She didn’t have any idea where this was going, or how it related to her, but Bornstein was right. At the mention of the word dementia, her worries expanded exponentially. Nothing about this felt like it was going to be easy.
"Before she died, as her power of attorney and guardian ad litem, John Monroe was in the process of having her clinically diagnosed. He has letters from physicians signed prior to the date of the deed transfer." He spoke softly and carefully, the way people do when they explain grave situations to children.
Although he couldn't have known just how fragile the situation was for Sophia. She could still remember hearing her mother in the other room talking to a friend, unaware Sophia was listening. They were drinking wine and playing Pokeno, when Mom laughed. "Lord, it's like Charlie has dementia," she'd said. "He doesn't remember a damn thing about where he came from. Old fool. Up and leaves his wife and daughter, and to do what? Find himself out in the great big world? No, nothing. That's what. Can't remember a damn thing. No clue where he's going, either. We're better off without him."
But they weren't. Nothing was better without him.
He erased himself from their lives, took everything with him, and Sophia learned to rely on herself.
The silence enveloped her as she blinked back tears, never saying a word as she allowed Bornstein to continue.
"The time limit for Action to Recover Real Property in Oregon is ten years." He let the words sink in for the faintest moment. "This is bigger than claims of rightful ownership. We're talking about mortgage fraud and elder abuse. These are criminal implications."
"What?" She gasped. "Against me?" She felt life a knife had been rammed into her back. "I had nothing to do with my ex’s business affairs. I mean, I just got the house in the divorce settlement. This is fucking crazy."
Her heart pounded at the thundering of her own voice, and her blood raced with a mixture of anger and defeat. What was she even doing? Did this house mean enough to her for her to be willing to jump through so many hoops?
She hadn’t signed up for this.
If Sophia wasn't certain before, she was now, more than ever, sure Austin was behind everything.
Fraud? Elder abuse?
Her mind didn't work the same way, but Austin was definitely a by any means necessary kind of guy. Easily, and without an ounce of remorse, he would take down anything or anyone standing in the way of what he wanted. He was spelling it out for her. Whenever it came to a head between Austin and Sophia, she always came in second. He made sure she knew she would never make it anywhere worthwhile without him—and would never get anything from him.
Tears continued to burn her eyes as she stifled a sob, heat rushing to her neck and cheeks.
A stark white blur crossed her line of vision as Bornstein handed her a box of tissues. She yanked one out and dabbed at the corners of her eyes, swiping beneath the lower lids for any traces of smeared makeup.
"Listen, Sophia. Right now this is a civil suit. We've still got three weeks until the hearing. I've requested closing documents from the mortgage company and the health records for Barbara Monroe. We're at a disadvantage at this juncture, but don't write us off just yet." Bornstein's tone was even and matter-of-fact, but gentle.
Sophia's eyes were still lowered while she absorbed his comments. The fight ahead of her suddenly felt real, tangible—its grip tightening around her. She swallowed hard, gulping back the catch in her throat. She sat taller despite her insides sinking. "What should I do?" she asked. "I can't just sit back and do nothing while this guy takes the only thing I've got left."
A severe expression smoothed the lines of his face. "We have to prove there was no fraud. Either we come up with an original deed, or show beyond a reasonable doubt that Barbara Monroe was of sound mind at the time of the transfer."
Just the thought of it made her feel tired to the bones.
He sighed loudly, lost somewhere in his head. "Might as well be the Hatfields and McCoys all over again. The Harmans and Monroes have been at each other's throats for generations, competing and stealing. Land, houses, women." He leaned back in his chair and pressed a finger to his top lip, staring at Sophia. "This all started over a woman. Maybe we can end it with one."
Wait a second. Bornstein also mentioned the family feud at the last appointment. He could work on getting the documents his way, but she'd rely on her own instincts. Maybe what she'd been missing in her search was what started the grudge.
First she'd do a little more digging about Barbara Monroe.
Next, if John Monroe was anything like Austin Harman, she'd follow the money and the inflated ego.
Shouldn't be too hard to miss.
Everett sat in the far corner of the coffee house. He'd managed to nab two seats at the bar facing the street and already ordered one large black coffee, no sugar, no cream. It was still an hour and a half before he expected Sophia.
"You've got thirty minutes. What was so important it couldn't wait until later?" Everett swiveled on his stool and leaned his back against the bar. "And what happened last night?"
"Oh, you mean when you just stood there with your mouth hanging open while I asked Austin's wife the hard questions?"
Everett narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms.
"Whatever, man. I didn't come here for this shit." Mike shifted his weight onto his hip and hauled out a wad of rolled papers from his back pocket. "Since the motion to dismiss was denied, she's up against the wall. She's either got to prove there was no fraud, which is going to be damn near impossible considering we have the original deed, or she has to prove Babs wasn't in the middle of her battle with dementia."
Everett tucked his feet beneath the footrest and let his weight teeter. He opened his mouth to speak, then immediately thought better of it. Somewhere in this rant he hoped he’d hear an actual update.
"Listen, man, all I'm saying is they've got nothing, and we've got three weeks to coast until this hearing. So what do you want to do?"
Everett's chest tightened as heat crawled up his neck to his cheeks. "Do? What do you mean, what do I want to do?"
"That's why I'm here. It's not just about the house anymore. The deed was sent to you by Austin Harman, which basically removes him from the equation, but it still leaves Sophia and the Harman Estate," Mike trailed off.
The way he settled back on the stool, overdoing the casual air, it was hard not to notice the cocky tilt of his head and the smug jut of his chin. It was an intentional pause, a pregnant pause.
"Okay. I'll bite." Everett shot him a pointed look and held his cup closer. Slowly, he savored the robust aroma of his dark roast, then sipped.
Mike must have noticed his curiosity, because he was no longer sitting at a bar while Everett drank flat, lukewarm coffee. The attorney in him reared its devilish head as he let the silence drag. He was in a courtroom, zeroing in on the infinitesimal doubt still lingering in the back of Everett's mind when it came to anything related to Sophia.
At all costs, Everett was determined to avoid his friend's knowing stare. He cursed under his breath. "Try to get to the point sometime today." He released a deep, weighted sigh.
Mike drilled down his list of counts in his favor. "You were seeing red, you wanted this so bad. I could see it on your face every time you visited Babs at the hospice. You said someone would have to pay for what they did to her. And I'm saying it's not too late."
A hardening in Everett's stomach paralyzed him while he replayed the days and nights of those last few months of his grandmother's life. Instead of helping her remember their Christmas traditions or her favorite donuts from Ed's bakery, he'd been in and out of doctors' offices, working to get her legally declared. He was the one stuck with pawing through piles of paper and medical records, her things—all the little things that made up her life.
The Harmans kicked her while she was down.
He wanted to sag, but didn’t dare with Mike-the-shark watching him. "What about the estate?" He took the bait.
"Henry Harman is dead, but we could prove his history of targeting elderly homeowners with financial difficulties. He promised to take over the payments and allow Babs to stay in the house. At least five other similar claims were settled out of court. Who knows how many more people there were? How many more didn't come forward?"
Everett struggled to find the right words. "And Sophia?"
It seemed lost on Mike, but Everett could hear it in his voice. The small inflection. The unmistakable tinge of hope. Though he didn't owe it to her, deep down Everett needed her not to be involved. He needed to not be wrong about her—for the tiny flip in his heart to not be wrong about her.
"Honestly, I don't know if she was involved," Mike reluctantly admitted. "What I do know is I started doing some digging into Austin Harman's personal and business finances, both before and after they were married. There were similar claims against him long before she showed up, but one in particular stood out."
Mike skimmed through the unrolled papers he'd brought with him and took out one from the middle. He took a long swig from his cup, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed, and slid the page in front of Everett. "An accusation of embezzlement was reported to a local Las Vegas news station. Guess who the tip came from?" He pointed to a line toward the top of the page.
It wasn't Sophia's name, but the words "the accused's wife" glared back at Everett.
Everything in him slumped. "Sophia."
For some reason he couldn't fathom, a hesitant pang struck through him at the taste of her name on his tongue in such a compromising context. The questions stacked like bricks, rebuilding the walls around his heart.
He didn't know why, but he couldn't look at Mike at first.
"A quickie move. No family or friends here. Then there's the mystery surrounding why she's hell bent on living in such a huge house for one person."
Everett looked at his friend now. His attorney.
A satisfied smile settled on Mike's face as he covered the seed of doubt with fertilizer and mulch. "Makes you wonder who’s really trying to remove themselves from the equation."
It took Everett ten minutes after Mike was gone to text Sophia. He needed more time.
Everett: Hope I caught you in time. Can't make this afternoon, but how about dinner tonight?
Her reply came quickly. Dinner tonight. Patton Place.