“You’re sure you want to watch this?” she asked.
“Yes.”
At exactly 8:00 AM, two black SUVs pulled up in front of the house. Behind them, a flatbed truck with the logo Preston Development Group. A man in a fitted navy suit stepped out, clipboard in hand. James.
He knocked once on the door.
Michael answered, confused. “Yeah?”
“Michael Harris?”
“Yes…”
“I’m here on behalf of Eleanor Preston, legal owner of this property as of 7:45 this morning.”
Michael blinked. “What are you talking about? This is my house.”
James raised a brow. “Actually, the deed was purchased this morning. Quiet sale. You failed to refinance in time. Eleanor made an offer the bank couldn’t refuse.”
I saw it hit him. Like a wave. He stepped outside in his robe, eyes wide.
