“I don’t care who he is,” I said, keeping my chin high. “This is my home. You can’t just bring strangers up here to intimidate me.”

Arthur Vance did not look intimidated.

He set his briefcase down on the small table next to Mr. Alvarez’s door.

The brass latches clicked open with two sharp, metallic snaps.

“Mrs. Morrison,” Vance said, his voice entirely professional. “I am not here to intimidate you. I am here to deliver the certified copy of the court’s revocation of transfer.”

He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a thick sheaf of papers.

The top page had a heavy, raised blue seal on the bottom right corner.

“This is a joke,” Jake said, stepping up to my side.

Jake crossed his thick arms over his chest, trying to block the doorway.

Vance did not even look at Jake. He kept his eyes on me.

“The county court found that the signature on the quitclaim deed dated October twelfth was a forgery,” Vance said.

He turned a page.

“The notary, Mr. Henderson, has already signed an affidavit stating he never witnessed Carl’s signature on that document,” Vance continued.