Martin shook his head.
“Not exactly.”
The gym disappeared around me.
“Your uncle didn’t give you twenty thousand dollars.”
He opened the document.
“He created a property trust.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“Your uncle purchased the property outright through Windlass Property Group, then placed beneficial occupancy rights in your name and your wife’s name for the duration of the marriage.”
Claire closed her eyes.
I felt cold.
“That isn’t possible. I’ve paid a
mortgage for fourteen years.”
Martin nodded.
“You have.”
“To who?”
“Windlass.”
I looked down.
The mortgage company I had been paying all those years was a servicing subsidiary.
My uncle, Robert Mercer, had been a strange man.
Quiet.
Never married.
No children.
He had worked in “commercial real estate,” which
