«Mr. Simmons,» Catherine said, her voice ice cold. «My daughter doesn’t speak to criminals. If you have anything to say, you can say it to my junior associate.» She pointed to one of the young lawyers behind her, a sharp-looking man named Toby.
«Toby,» Catherine said, «give Mr. Simmons your card.»
Toby handed Keith a card.
«Now,» Catherine said, taking Grace’s arm, «get out of my way. We have a celebratory lunch to get to. I believe Grace has some painting to catch up on.»
They walked past him. Grace didn’t look back. Keith watched them leave. He watched the heavy wooden doors swing shut, sealing his fate. He looked at Garrison Ford, who was already on the phone, presumably calling his own lawyer. Keith Simmons was alone. But the story wasn’t quite over yet.
As Catherine and Grace stepped out onto the courthouse steps, blinking in the bright Manhattan sunlight, a black sedan pulled up. But it wasn’t Catherine’s car. The window rolled down.
A man sat in the back seat. He was older, with silver hair and a face that looked like it was carved from granite. He looked at Catherine, then at Grace. Grace froze.
«Dad?»
Catherine stiffened. She gripped her briefcase tighter.
«Hello, Catherine,» the man said. His voice was deep and commanded attention, even over the noise of the city traffic. «I saw the news. The Iron Gavel returns. You made quite a scene in there.»
«I did what had to be done, William,» Catherine said sharply.
«I know,» the man said. He looked at Grace. «Grace. It’s been a long time.»
Grace looked between her mother and the father she hadn’t seen in twenty years. The father who had sided with Keith when they first got married because it was a «good business merger.»
«What are you doing here?» Grace asked.
«I’m here,» William said, opening the car door, «because Keith Simmons owes me money. A lot of money. And I heard you two just took everything he has.»
He stepped out of the car. He wasn’t there to hug his daughter. He was there for his investment. Catherine stepped in front of Grace again.
«She owes you nothing, William. Keith’s debt is Keith’s problem.»
«Not according to the loan papers,» William said, pulling a document from his jacket. «Keith put up the Fifth Avenue penthouse as collateral for a private loan from my firm six months ago. If he defaults, which I assume he is about to, that apartment belongs to me.»
Grace felt the ground shift beneath her feet again. Just when she thought she had won, the past came back to haunt her from a different direction. Catherine looked at the document. Her eyes narrowed. She scanned the signature.
«You signed this loan with him?» Catherine asked, looking at her ex-husband with disbelief. «Knowing he was hiding assets?»
«Business is business, Kate,» William said with a shrug. «I didn’t know he was hiding it from you. I just knew he needed cash. And now I’m calling the note due. Today.»
He looked at Grace. «I’m sorry, sweetheart, but that apartment is mine. You’ll have to find somewhere else to stay.»
Grace felt the tears returning. She had just won her home back, only to lose it to her own father in the parking lot. Catherine looked at William. Then she looked at the document again. A slow, dangerous smile spread across her face. The same smile she had given Keith right before she destroyed him.
«Oh, William,» Catherine chuckled darkly. «You really should have read the fine print on the deed before you loaned him that money.»
William frowned. «What?»
«Part six is going to be interesting,» Catherine whispered to herself.
The street noise of Manhattan seemed to fade away, leaving only the tension between the three family members standing on the sidewalk. William stood by his sleek black car, holding the document that threatened to undo everything Catherine had just achieved inside the courtroom. He looked at his ex-wife and daughter not with affection, but with the cold calculation of a man balancing a ledger.
«It’s a standard lien, Catherine,» William said, his voice devoid of emotion. «Keith borrowed two million dollars from my private equity firm, Ironclad Capital. He put the deed to the Fifth Avenue penthouse up as collateral. He defaulted on the first payment yesterday. The property is mine.»
Grace felt her knees go weak. She grabbed her mother’s arm for support. «Is that true? Can he do that? Dad, how could you?»
«It’s business, Grace,» William said, though he had the grace to look slightly uncomfortable. «Keith came to me with a business proposition. I didn’t know he was stealing from you. But money is money. I can’t just write off a two-million-dollar loss. I have investors.»
Catherine Bennett didn’t flinch. She didn’t look worried. In fact, she looked like she was suppressing a laugh. She stepped closer to William, her heels clicking rhythmically on the concrete. She snatched the document from his hand, her eyes scanning the text with laser-like precision.
«Section four. Clause B,» Catherine read aloud, her tone mocking. «‘The borrower certifies that they have sole and unencumbered ownership of the collateral property.'»
She looked up at William over the rim of her sunglasses. «Did you run a title search, William? Or did you just trust the man who wears too much cologne and calls you ‘sir’?»
William frowned. «My team ran a preliminary check. Keith’s name is on the deed.»
«His name is on the copy of the deed he showed you,» Catherine corrected. She reached into her own briefcase and pulled out a blue folder. «But if you had checked the county clerk’s records properly, you would have seen the amendment filed in 2018.»
She handed the blue folder to William.
«In 2018, when Grace was pregnant, before the miscarriage, I convinced Keith to transfer the property into a family trust to protect it from tax liability,» Catherine explained. «He agreed because he’s greedy and hates paying taxes, but he didn’t read the bylaws of the trust.»
Catherine smiled, and it was the most terrifying thing Grace had ever seen.
«The trust stipulates that any use of the property as collateral requires the signature of both beneficiaries. Grace never signed your loan agreement, did she, William?»
William looked down at the document in his hand. He looked at the signature line. There was a scrawl that looked like Grace Simmons, but it was shaky.
«He forged it,» Grace whispered, realizing the depth of Keith’s betrayal.
«He forged my signature,» Catherine nodded. «Exactly. So, William, here is your dilemma. You are holding a loan agreement based on a forged signature involving a property held in a trust. That makes the contract void.»
William’s face turned a shade of gray that matched the pavement.
«If the contract is void, then I have no claim on the apartment,» William muttered.
«Correct,» Catherine said cheerfully. «And it means you are currently out two million dollars with no collateral.»
«That liar,» William growled, crumbling the paper in his fist. «He scammed me. He scammed his own father-in-law.»
«He did,» Catherine agreed. «And if you try to evict Grace, I will sue Ironclad Capital for predatory lending and accepting forged documents. I’ll tie your firm up in litigation for so long your grandchildren will be the ones settling the case.»