Chapter 2 - THE NUMBER BLOCKED ON HIS PHONE
I took Dad upstairs.
Susan protested.
I ignored her.
Heather disappeared into the guest bedroom and shut the door hard enough to shake a framed photograph.
Dad sat on the edge of my bed while I cleaned the scrape on his hand.
“You should’ve called me.”
“I tried.”
That stopped me.
“When?”
“The first night.”
“With whose phone?”
“Kyle gave mine back for a few minutes.”
“And?”
“It said your number wasn’t available.”
I stared at him.
“My number hasn’t changed in eight years.”
“I know.”
“Did you text?”
“Wouldn’t go through.”
I thought about Kyle keeping Dad’s phone.
“Did he watch you try?”
Dad nodded.
“He said the authorities probably shut your number down.”
My husband had actually said that to a retired farmer from rural Nebraska and expected him to believe it.
Worse.
Dad had believed it because he trusted Kyle.
“Tell me everything from the beginning.”
Dad rubbed his knees.
“Kyle called Sunday.”
I had left Scottsdale Saturday morning.
Kyle told him there had been a problem related to one of my projects.
He said I might be questioned for several days.
“He said you were scared.”
“Did he say he spoke to me?”
“He said one of your lawyers did.”
“What lawyer?”
“He didn’t give me a name.”
Kyle then told Dad my situation could affect the Scottsdale house and possibly “family property.”
He offered to fly to Nebraska.
Instead, Dad insisted on coming to Arizona himself.
Kyle bought the ticket.
At the airport, he took Dad’s phone.
“He said he needed it for identity verification.”
“What did you sign?”
“I thought it was permission for him to use my farm records temporarily.”
“For what?”
“To help protect you.”
I closed my eyes.
Dad’s farm had been in our family for three generations.
Three hundred and twenty acres outside Kearney, Nebraska.
The house needed a new roof and the combine was older than I was, but the land itself had become valuable.
“What did the notary tell you?”
“She asked if I was signing voluntarily.”
“What did you say?”
“Yes.”
“Did she explain the document?”
“Kyle did most of the talking.”
That could become important.
Voluntary signature did not automatically mean informed consent.
I photographed every page.
I did not understand all of it.
The document was titled:
LIMITED PROPERTY AND COLLATERAL AUTHORIZATION.
The words made my stomach tighten.
Still, I refused to guess.
I called Rebecca Sloan, an attorney I had used years earlier during a commercial contract dispute.
She agreed to review it.
“Do not confront Kyle about specific language yet,” she said.
“Why?”
“Because if there is misconduct, you don’t want to teach him what you know before documents are preserved.”
I looked toward the hallway.
Susan and Heather were still downstairs.
“Can I remove them from my house?”
“Whose name is on title?”
“Mine.”
“Kyle?”
“Not on the deed.”
“Then yes, although because this is a family situation and there was already physical contact, stay calm and document everything.”
The rag incident came rushing back.
I had shoved Susan.
I had put a dirty cloth in her mouth.
“I wasn’t calm.”
“I assumed that from your tone.”
I almost laughed.
Rebecca asked me to photograph Dad’s injuries and write down his account while fresh.
Then she asked about his phone.
“Get it back.”
I went downstairs.
Susan was standing beside the kitchen island with her purse.
“Where’s Dad’s phone?”
“Kyle has it.”
“You said he was helping.”
“He is.”
“With what?”
“Chloe, you are making this worse.”
“Then give me one reason to stop.”
She hesitated.
There wasn’t one.
Heather finally spoke.
“Kyle said you were in serious trouble.”
“Did you believe him?”
“Yes.”
“Then why were you laughing at my father?”
Her eyes shifted.
“We were frustrated.”
“At him?”
“He kept asking questions.”
There.
Small answer.
A bigger question.
“What questions?”
Susan snapped, “Heather.”
Too late.
Heather looked at me.
“He wanted his paperwork back.”
I stared.
“What paperwork?”
Susan moved toward the door.
I blocked it.
“Not until you answer.”
“You have no right to detain me.”
She was correct.
I stepped aside.
“Leave.”
Susan looked surprised.
“Both of you.”
Heather grabbed her bag.
They walked out together.
Five seconds later, Susan turned back.
“You should remember something before you destroy your marriage.”
“What?”
“Kyle did all of this because he was trying to save your future.”
Then she left.
Rebecca called twenty minutes later.
Her voice had changed.
“Chloe, don’t sign anything.”
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“I mean anything. Don’t even acknowledge receipt of new financial documents.”
“Why?”
“This authorization allows Kyle to act in connection with proposed secured financing involving Norman’s Nebraska property.”
My hand tightened.
“Financing for what?”
“That part isn’t stated.”
“Can he take Dad’s farm?”
“Not from this document alone.”
Relief came too early.
Rebecca continued.
“But it gives him enough authority to submit collateral information, receive lender communications, and participate in a transaction on Norman’s behalf.”
My stomach dropped.
“Dad thought he was helping me.”
“That does not appear anywhere in the document.”
I looked toward the stairs.
“Then Kyle lied to get his signature.”
“Possibly.”
A message arrived on my phone.
From Kyle.
DO NOT MOVE ANY PAPERS FROM THE HOUSE. I’M COMING HOME.
Rebecca heard me inhale.
“What?”
I read it aloud.
She was quiet for a moment.
“How does he know you have papers?”
I looked toward the front windows.
Susan had left less than twenty minutes earlier.
May you like
She had already called him.
📖 The document gave Kyle real authority over Norman’s farm-related financing, and his immediate demand that Chloe preserve the papers proved Susan had warned him the moment she left. 👇
