Brenda immediately shrieked that I had trapped her son and demanded to know why I had not warned him before he signed binding legal paperwork, while I calmly replied that a wife had no obligation to stop her husband from committing the exact betrayal he had planned against her. A few hours after my discharge, when we returned to the house so I could retrieve my personal belongings, they tried to force me to sign a sloppy handwritten declaration retroactively approving his illegal deal, tossing the two hundred dollars on the counter when I refused. Before I could finish telling them the full extent of the trouble they were in, a stern attorney named Mr. Lawson knocked on the front door representing the legitimate buyers and handed Christopher an official notification of felony fraud. Rachel and Mr. Lawson revealed that Christopher had accepted a one hundred thousand dollar non-refundable cash deposit under false pretenses, which had already vanished from his bank account the exact moment he received it. Breaking down in ragged sobs as his mother grabbed his jacket in horror, Christopher confessed that he had lost all his personal savings in a fraudulent Miami crypto trading syndicate and subsequently borrowed over two hundred thousand dollars from dangerous lenders in Philadelphia who threatened to put him in a wheelchair if he did not pay them back immediately.
Brenda backed away from her son in sheer disbelief upon realizing he had lied to her about investing in a commercial plaza together just to trick her into helping him search for my property deeds. Before Christopher could make any more excuses for treating his heavily pregnant wife and newborn infant as disposable collateral, two uniformed police officers and a detective walked through the front door and placed steel handcuffs around his wrists for grand larceny and felony forgery. While Christopher wept and begged for my forgiveness as he was led to a police cruiser, Rachel handed a sobbing Brenda an eviction notice requiring her to vacate the premises within two hours before the real owners took possession. One year later, I now sit peacefully in my modern oceanfront home in San Diego, running my own interior design firm from home while watching a healthy, bubbly Harper take her very first steps across the living room rug. Christopher is currently serving a six-year sentence in a state correctional facility saddled with massive restitution payments, while Brenda was forced to sell her townhome to cover his legal fees and now rents a cramped basement room on the outskirts of Scranton, leaving my daughter and me completely free with sole custody and a permanent restraining order.