Chapter 1 - The Gate at Willow Creek
The guard twisted Skye Bellamy's arm against the iron gate before she could show him the deed.
"Let go," she said, trying not to drop the papers.
Behind the guard stood Mason Creed, a developer in a tailored coat, smiling as if the entire confrontation were an inconvenient delay in his morning.
"You're trespassing on a construction site," he said.
"This is mine."
Skye held the deed as high as she could. It was a certified copy of the transfer her grandmother had signed two years earlier, giving Skye an undivided half-interest in the family's twenty-two acres outside Asheville, North Carolina. The instrument had been recorded at the county register of deeds. Skye knew the book and page number by heart.
Mason laughed. "Grandma sold it. The closing was last month. You're too late."
"She was tricked."
The guard loosened his hold when attorney Paige Ellis stepped forward with her phone already out.
"Move your hand," Paige told him. "My client isn't threatening you. We're here about a title dispute and want access to the public portion of the driveway. If there's a safety concern, we'll step back."
The guard released Skye. Red fingerprints formed along her forearm. Skye moved beyond the reach of the gate and handed Paige the folder.
Mason produced a fresh copy of a recorded deed and an escrow statement. It purported to convey the whole property from Skye's eighty-two-year-old grandmother, June Bellamy, to an entity called Ridgegate Homes. An attached affidavit represented that a previous family transfer had been canceled and that June had authority to sell without Skye's signature.
"All perfectly legal," Mason said. "Our title company checked it."
Paige examined the signature on the affidavit. Then she looked at the older power-of-attorney form Skye carried only because her grandmother had asked her to bring every relevant document.
"This isn't her signature," Paige said.
Mason's smile collapsed for an instant.
"You can't make that determination by looking at a page."
"You're right," Paige answered. "A handwriting comparison isn't final proof. But these records contain a material inconsistency, and the recorded family conveyance wasn't erased just because another document says it was. Who prepared this affidavit?"
Mason looked toward the trucks idling behind the gate. "Our acquisitions department handled the closing."
"Then tell them to preserve every draft, instruction, and original signature page," Paige said. "And don't represent that our client's recorded interest vanished when it hasn't been adjudicated."
Skye could hear heavy machinery starting somewhere beyond the tree line. Her grandfather's old apple orchard lay uphill from the driveway. If crews had begun grading, they could cut through roots that had been there longer than Skye had been alive.
"You're not touching the orchard," she said.
Mason folded the newer deed. "I have permits. You're emotional because you don't like that your grandmother made a business decision."
"Then why won't she tell me she signed?"
His eyes shifted toward Paige.
At that moment a pickup came down the service track carrying a stack of red survey stakes. The driver slowed at the gate, recognized Skye, and abruptly stopped. It was Clark, a neighbor who had helped June maintain the property for fifteen years.
"Miss Bellamy," he called, "they told us you approved the survey."
May you like
Skye looked back at Mason.
She had approved nothing.
