Chapter 32 - Twenty-Seven Stolen Homes
By midnight, the number was twenty-seven.
Twenty-seven homeowners.
Twenty-seven forged contracts.
Twenty-seven families who believed the Holloway Center had taken control of their property.
Claire did not go home.
Neither did Evan.
They converted the center’s financial-education classroom into an emergency command room.
Coffee appeared.
Laptops opened.
Attorneys arrived.
Marcus called former colleagues until half of Providence’s legal community seemed to be awake.
The pattern became clear at 2:13 a.m.
Every victim had fallen behind on a mortgage, property-tax payment, medical bill, or divorce-related debt.
Every victim had searched online for financial assistance.
Every victim had been contacted by someone claiming to represent Claire’s new center.
The fake representatives offered one solution.
“Temporary deed protection.”
Evan stared at the spreadsheet.
“That phrase doesn’t even mean anything.”
“It doesn’t need to,” Marcus said. “It just needs to sound complicated enough that desperate people stop asking questions.”
Claire hated how accurate that was.
The fake company transferred properties into shell corporations.
Then those shells borrowed against the equity.
In several cases, the homes had already been sold.
Rebecca’s property was scheduled for transfer the next morning.
Marcus stopped it with nineteen minutes to spare.
At three, Samuel found the first useful connection.
“All twenty-seven deeds were processed by the same title company.”
Claire looked over.
“Name?”
“Harbor Crest Title Services.”
She frowned.
Never heard of it.
Samuel continued.
“Formed eighteen months ago in Delaware. Registered office is a mail-forwarding address.”
“Beneficial owner?”
“Hidden.”
Evan stood.
“Not for long.”
At sunrise, another problem arrived.
The Providence Riverfront Hotel’s minority partner requested an emergency board meeting.
The international hospitality group that had bought forty-nine percent years earlier had changed leadership twice since the original deal.
Its current American president was a polished former investment banker named Malcolm Sloane.
Claire knew him socially.
That was all.
Until seven forty-five, when Malcolm appeared on her phone.
“Claire.”
“Malcolm.”
“We need to discuss the reputational situation.”
“Twenty-seven families were defrauded.”
“I’m aware.”
“Then call it fraud.”
“We don’t know that yet.”
“I do.”
Malcolm sighed.
“Our legal department is concerned your charitable activities may expose the hotel brand.”
“The center is legally separate.”
“Consumers won’t understand the distinction.”
Claire looked through the window at volunteers bringing breakfast to families who had spent the night.
“What do you want?”
“Temporarily step away from hotel operations.”
There it was.
The old game.
Take a crisis.
Call it concern.
Use it to grab control.
“How temporary?”
“Until an independent review is complete.”
“Conducted by whom?”
“Our outside counsel.”
Claire laughed.
Malcolm did not.
“You find this amusing?”
“I find it familiar.”
“Claire, your name is on fraudulent contracts.”
“My name was forged.”
“Can you prove that?”
“Yes.”
“How quickly?”
“That depends on whether you keep wasting my time.”
His voice cooled.
“The board meets at noon.”
“Then I’ll see you at noon.”
She hung up.
Evan watched her.
“Still attracted to reasonable men?”
“Deeply.”
At eleven, Claire received the forensic signature report.
The signatures were sophisticated digital reproductions assembled from publicly filed corporate documents.
No wet ink.
No direct access to her personal files.
That helped.
Then Luis found something that did not.
“The center’s logo wasn’t public until four months ago.”
Claire looked at him.
“What?”
“The final version. The exact spacing and typography on these contracts. We approved it internally four months before launch.”
Samuel stopped typing.
“So someone had access.”
Claire’s stomach tightened.
“How many people?”
“Employees, design contractors, board advisers, donors.”
“Number?”
“Forty-three.”
Evan crossed his arms.
“One of forty-three people fed material to whoever built this scam.”
“No,” Claire said.
She was studying the contracts again.
“The logo isn’t the important part.”
She tapped the signature block.
“My title.”
Founder and Executive Chair.
That title had changed twice during planning.
The forged contracts used the final wording.
Claire looked at Luis.
“When was that approved?”
He checked.
“Six weeks ago.”
“Who knew?”
Luis’s face darkened.
“Eleven people.”
Better.
Eleven suspects.
At 11:43, Marcus received the first return on Harbor Crest Title.
He read silently.
Then looked at Claire.
“What?”
“The registered financial guarantor behind Harbor Crest is a company called Sloane Urban Renewal.”
Evan’s eyebrows rose.
Claire felt the room become very quiet.
“Sloane?”
Marcus nodded.
“Same surname.”
Claire picked up her phone.
Malcolm Sloane’s smiling corporate portrait filled the hotel website.
She had expected an enemy hiding behind paperwork.
Instead, he had scheduled a board meeting.
At noon.
To remove her.
Claire smiled slowly.
Evan recognized the expression.
“There it is.”
“What?”
“The face.”
“What face?”
“The one you make right before someone discovers they underestimated you.”
Claire grabbed her coat.
“Come on.”
“To the hotel?”
“Yes.”
“What are you going to do?”
May you like
Claire opened the door.
“I’m going to let Malcolm Sloane explain twenty-seven stolen houses to me.”
