“You signed the quitclaim deed,” I said, looking her dead in the eye.

“You gave up every square foot of this house and lot in return for me taking on the whole mortgage by myself.”

Vanessa’s face went chalk white, the dark rouge on her cheeks standing out like dried paint on plaster.

“That paper’s not valid,” she stammered, her fingers twitching at her sides.

“Rob told me those papers didn’t count unless we went in front of a judge!”

“Rob lied to you about that too,” Mark said from just behind my shoulder.