Chapter 13 - Standing at the Door
The rain had turned into a sleet storm by the time Daniel’s truck pulled up to Arthur Miller’s old Victorian house on Oak Street. The house stood dark against the stormy sky, its shutters rattling in the biting wind.
Parked in the driveway was a glossy black sedan—Edward Miller’s car.
Daniel killed the engine and turned to Grace in the passenger seat. "Stay in the truck, Grace. Edward's always had a nasty temper, especially when money's involved."
"Not a chance," Grace said, setting her jaw firmly and unbuckling her seatbelt. "We're in this together, Daniel. Besides, Arthur gave me verbal permission as his attending nurse to retrieve his personal records."
Daniel looked at her, a wave of affection and admiration washing over him. He nodded, and together they stepped out into the freezing slush.
They walked up the porch steps, the old wood groaning beneath their boots. Daniel knocked firmly on the front door.
A moment later, the door swung open. Edward Miller stood there, holding a half-empty glass of whiskey, a sour expression on his sleek face. He was dressed in a tailored sweater, but his eyes were bloodshot and hostile.
"Carter?" Edward sneered, leaning against the doorframe. "What the hell are you doing here? I told your lawyer friend you've got until the end of February to clear your junk out of my shop."
"It's not your shop yet, Edward," Daniel said calmly, his broad chest rising and falling steadily against the cold wind. "Arthur is at County General right now. He told us about the agreement he signed with me last summer."
Edward’s face drained of color for a fraction of a second before his expression hardened into an angry glare. "My father is senile. He doesn't know what he's talking about. That power of attorney gives me sole authority over his estate, and I'm selling the property to Metro Development."
"Your father was fully coherent when he signed the intent-to-transfer document last July," Grace spoke up, stepping forward into the doorway light. "And as his care team at the hospital, we have documented that his cognitive decline only occurred after his stroke three weeks ago—after you forced him to sign the power of attorney. That makes your power of attorney legally voidable for undue influence."
Edward glared at Grace, his teeth gritted. "Who the hell are you?"
"I'm the person who's going to make sure you don't rob an old man who built that business with his own hands," Grace said, her voice like steel. "Daniel, the mahogany desk is in the study off the main hall."
"Touch anything in this house and I’m calling the police for trespassing!" Edward spat, reaching out to push Daniel back onto the porch.
Daniel caught Edward’s wrist mid-air with a grip forged from fifteen years of turning iron wrenches. He didn't raise his voice, nor did he swing. He simply held Edward’s arm immovable in the freezing air, his hazel eyes locking onto Edward’s with an intensity that made the younger man flinch.
"Don't put your hands on me, Edward," Daniel said softly, the low rumble of his voice carrying more threat than a shout ever could. "And don't ever disrespect Grace again. We're getting what belongs to Arthur and the shop, and then the courts will decide."
Daniel released his wrist, pushing past him into the hallway. Edward stumbled back, cradling his arm, his eyes wide with a mix of shock and rage.
Within five minutes, Daniel located the heavy mahogany desk in the dusty study. He pulled open the bottom drawer, shifting aside old tax ledgers until his fingers touched a thick manila folder labeled Carter - Auto Repair Transfer (Draft & Notarized).
He pulled it out, opening it under the hallway light. There, clearly stamped by a county notary and signed in Arthur’s shaky but distinct handwriting, was the full purchase agreement, giving Daniel right of first refusal for the property at fair market value.
"Got it," Daniel said, walking back out into the hall.
Edward stood by the door, breathing heavily, his hands trembling. "You think you've won, Carter? You can't afford to buy that lot at fair market value! You don't have the cash!"
Daniel stopped on the porch, turning back to face him as sleet pelted down around them.
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"I didn't have enough money for a turkey last Christmas, Edward," Daniel said quietly. "And I still made sure my daughter had a home. I'll find the money. Because unlike you, I work for what I hold."
Daniel took Grace’s hand, leading her down the icy steps to the truck.
