Chapter 4 - The Guests at the Gate"It’s not his home, Lorraine," I said, my tone as quiet and smooth as polished glass. "It’s mine."
Garrett took a sharp step forward, his jaw tight. "Maya! What is wrong with you today?! My mother spent four hours making dinner for you! Tabitha flew in from San Diego! Can you stop being so defensive for five minutes?"
Four years ago, that accusation would have sent me into a spiral of self-doubt. I would have apologized, cleaned the kitchen, and swallowed my pride to keep the peace.
Now, I simply thought of Elena Ruiz’s words: Facts are your friends.
"Dinner isn't for me, Garrett," I said, opening my laptop on the kitchen counter. "And neither is this visit."
"What is that supposed to mean?" Lorraine demanded, folding her arms over her chest. "We came here to support family! But you've always treated us like outsiders in this apartment!"
Right on cue, the building’s intercom buzzed.
Garrett pressed the wall button. "Yes?"
"Mr. Cole?" the building concierge’s voice came through the speaker. "There are four gentlemen down here in the lobby asking for access to unit Three-B. A Mr. Uncle Arthur, his two sons, and a notary?"
Garrett looked at his mother, a flash of nervous anxiety crossing his face before he looked back at me. "Uh, yes, send them up, Greg."
Lorraine cleared her throat, smoothing down her designer blouse. "Arthur and the boys came to wish you a happy birthday, Maya. Family needs to stick together."
I knew why Uncle Arthur was here. Arthur was Lorraine’s older brother, a retired loan officer who had helped design the HELOC strategy. They had brought a mobile notary to my birthday dinner so I couldn't use the excuse of "needing time to think" or "visiting the bank tomorrow." They wanted me to sign tonight, under the social pressure of seven family members surrounding my table.
I walked into the living room, picked up my handbag, and sat down at the head of the long teak dining table.
The front door opened, and Uncle Arthur walked in, carrying a leather briefcase, followed by his two adult sons and a woman holding a black notary stamp kit.
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"Happy Birthday, Maya!" Arthur bellowed, offering an overly theatrical smile. "Thirty-one! Big year! Time to make big moves for the family!"
"Hello, Arthur," I said, keeping my hands folded calmly on the table. "Please, everyone, take a seat. Let's skip the dinner and get straight to the paperwork."
