The Five Percent Nobody Mentioned
Chapter 06 - The Five Percent Nobody Mentioned
His name was Thomas Greer.
I had never heard it.
Yet there he was in the original title records.
Evelyn Hayes — ninety-five percent.
Thomas Greer — five percent.
Ten years later, a deed transferred Thomas’s five percent to my mother.
The signature was notarized.
Recorded.
Apparently clean.
Then I read Mom’s notes.
NOT HIS SIGNATURE.
My stomach dropped.
Another forged deed.
Older.
Different victim.
Same house.
I looked at Denise.
“Who is Thomas Greer?”
Her face had gone pale.
“I know the name.”
“How?”
“He was Marlene’s first husband.”
I stared.
“What?”
“Before Alicia’s father. Before Derek’s father.”
“Marlene was married to him?”
“Briefly.”
“Why would he own part of Mom’s house?”
“I don’t know.”
We searched.
Thomas Greer was seventy-one.
Retired contractor.
Living in Florida.
Still alive.
That mattered.
We called.
No answer.
Julia advised we not mention the title issue in voicemail.
So I left:
“My name is Nora Hayes Whitmore. My mother was Evelyn Hayes. I believe you knew her.”
He called back eleven minutes later.
“You found the box.”
Not hello.
Not who is this.
“You knew?”
“I hoped Frank was still alive.”
“Why do you own five percent of my house?”
Silence.
Then:
“I don’t.”
“Records say you did.”
“I gave it to Evelyn.”
“Did you sign the deed?”
“Yes.”
“Mom says you didn’t.”
Another silence.
“What exactly does the deed look like?”
I sent him a scan.
He called again.
“That is not the deed I signed.”
My pulse jumped.
“What did you sign?”
“A transfer to a trust.”
“What trust?”
“Nora Preservation Trust.”
My whole body went cold.
“My name?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because Evelyn was trying to protect the property.”
“From who?”
“Marlene.”
Of course.
Thomas explained.
Years after his divorce from Marlene, he invested in real estate.
He knew Mom through Denise’s husband.
When Mom wanted to buy the house, she was short on cash.
Thomas contributed five percent.
Temporarily.
His plan was to transfer the interest after closing.
But Marlene found out.
“How?”
“Derek.”
My throat tightened.
“He was a kid.”
“Fifteen.”
“What did he do?”
“He saw paperwork at my house during a visit.”
“You were still in his life?”
“I tried to be.”
Thomas’s voice changed.
“I was the closest thing he had to a stable father for a while.”
That complicated everything.
“Marlene knew about the house.”
“Yes.”
“She wanted Thomas’s share?”
“No.”
“What did she want?”
“Leverage.”
Thomas explained Marlene was already facing financial problems.
She believed the property could be used to pressure Mom over the earlier duplex dispute.
Thomas signed a transfer placing his five percent into a protective trust for me.
If something happened to Mom, the five percent would remain outside any marital or creditor claims.
But the recorded deed was different.
It transferred the interest directly to Mom.
“Who changed it?”
“We never proved.”
“Marlene?”
“Probably.”
“Why would she?”
“To erase the trust.”
“Why?”
“So the whole house would pass through Evelyn’s estate later.”
“And then to me.”
“Unless your estate plan changed.”
I thought of Derek.
The fake will.
The forged deed.
The altered power of attorney.
A long strategy.
Not necessarily one plan from the beginning.
But a pattern ready to exploit.
Thomas continued.
“Evelyn suspected Marlene had copied our paperwork.”
“Did she report it?”
“Yes.”
“To who?”
“An investigator.”
“Police?”
“Private.”
“What happened?”
“He disappeared.”
I almost laughed.
“Disappeared?”
“Moved away. Stopped returning calls.”
“Why?”
“Evelyn thought Marlene paid him.”
“Who was he?”
“Carl Voss.”
I knew that name too.
Derek’s former business partner.
He came to our wedding.
He gave us a silver picture frame.
My stomach turned.
Everyone had been in the room.
Everyone except the truth.
“Did Derek know about the trust?”
“I don’t know.”
“Mom wrote that he may not know everything.”
“That sounds right.”
“Why?”
“Because Marlene never told anyone everything.”
That felt true.
We arranged to meet Thomas in person.
He flew in two days later.
Gray hair.
Sun-weathered face.
Walked with a cane.
The moment he saw me, his eyes filled.
“You look like Evelyn.”
I had heard that all my life.
This time it felt like a warning.
He brought original documents.
The real transfer to Nora Preservation Trust.
Signed.
Notarized.
Never recorded.
“Why wasn’t it recorded?”
“The attorney was supposed to file it.”
“Who?”
“Carl Voss recommended him.”
Of course.
The attorney died years ago.
But his files might remain.
Julia located archived records.
We requested them.
Meanwhile, Thomas told me the part Mom never wrote.
“Marlene believed Evelyn stole something from her.”
“What?”
“Not money.”
“What then?”
“Derek.”
I laughed because it made no sense.
“My husband?”
“When Derek was fifteen, he ran away.”
I stopped.
“To Mom?”
“For three nights.”
“Why?”
“He was afraid of Marlene’s boyfriend.”
I looked at Thomas.
“Did Mom hide him?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“In this house.”
My house.
Derek had stayed there as a teenager.
Before I knew him.
Before I remembered him.
“He knew the house.”
“Yes.”
“He knew Mom.”
“Yes.”
“Why did he never tell me?”
Thomas looked sad.
“Maybe because the version of his childhood Marlene allowed him to remember was different.”
That sentence unsettled me.
“What do you mean?”
“Derek loved your mother.”
I almost recoiled.
“No.”
“He did.”
“He targeted me.”
“Maybe.”
“Maybe?”
Thomas leaned forward.
“Nora, abusive people can be victims too. Those truths can exist together.”
I looked away.
I did not want nuance.
Not yet.
He continued.
“Evelyn gave Derek food. Let him sleep in the guest room. Told him he could call if he needed help.”
“Then why would he help Marlene take my house?”
“I don’t know.”
“Did Mom stay in touch with him?”
“For a while.”
“When did it stop?”
“When Marlene found out.”
“How?”
“Carl.”
Of course.
The investigator.
Business partner.
Messenger.
Everyone connected.
Then Thomas handed me a small envelope.
“Evelyn gave me this after you got engaged.”
I froze.
“She knew I was engaged to Derek?”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
“She said she had failed to stop history from circling back.”
I opened the envelope.
Inside was a photocopy of a handwritten note from Derek.
Age sixteen.
Mrs. Hayes,
Thank you for letting me stay.
I’m sorry my mother hates you.
I don’t.
I hope someday I can live in a house where nobody uses money to make people afraid.
I read it twice.
The handwriting was unmistakably his.
Same long D.
Same slanted r.
A boy who once feared the same woman I now feared.
“What happened to him?”
Thomas looked at me.
“That’s what Evelyn wanted to know.”
Then my phone buzzed.
Julia.
The archived attorney file had been found.
The unrecorded trust deed was there.
So was a cover letter.
Instructions:
Record immediately.
But stapled to it was a handwritten note from the attorney:
Per Carl Voss, client withdrew instruction.
Client meaning my mother.
Except Mom had written in the margin of her copy:
I NEVER WITHDREW.
Someone stopped the trust from being recorded.
Someone with access to Carl.
Someone with reason to erase my protection.
Then Julia said:
“There’s another document.”
“What?”
“A check.”
“To who?”
“Carl Voss.”
“From?”
She paused.
“Marlene.”
Amount:
$25,000.
Dated three days before the trust deed vanished.
Marlene had paid the investigator who controlled the document trail.
And if that was true, the fight over my house had begun more than twenty years before my marriage.
But the next page made it personal.
Carl’s handwritten note beside the payment:
M.W. says Derek can finish this later.
May you like
At fifteen years old, Derek had already been part of whatever “this” was.
And I needed to know whether he had spent half his life trapped inside Marlene’s plan—or carrying it out.
