Chapter 5 - The Offer on the Table
By 6:00 PM on Thursday evening, the open house was officially over. More than forty prospective buyers had walked through the home.
Melissa and I sat in my truck down the street, drinking hot coffee while reviewing the digital dashboard on her laptop.
"We have three written offers already," Melissa said, tapping the trackpad. "All cash. No contingencies."
"Show me," I said.
"Offer one: $760,000, sixty-day closing. Offer two: $775,000, thirty-day closing. And offer three..." Melissa paused, turning the screen toward me with a slow smile. "Offer three is from a commercial development group. They’re offering $810,000 cash, ten-day closing, zero inspection required."
I raised an eyebrow. "Ten-day closing? That means title transfer and final sign-off happens next Friday."
"Exactly," Melissa said. "The buyers are an investment firm looking to convert suburban homes into high-end rental properties. They don't care about the drama. They told me that if the current occupants aren't out by the closing date, their legal team will handle the Sheriff's deputy removal on day eleven."
I looked out the window at the lit windows of 142 Brookfield Lane.
Ten days. In ten days, my parents and sister would no longer be dealing with their son—they would be dealing with a cold, unyielding corporate entity with a team of high-powered attorneys who wouldn't care about my mother's tears or my sister's tantrums.
"Accept offer three," I said without hesitation.
"Sign right here on the digital pad," Melissa said, handing me a stylus.
I signed my name across the screen. Ian Vance, Managing Member of Vance Holdings LLC.
"Done," Melissa said, hitting send. "I’ll notify the buyer's attorney. The earnest money deposit of $50,000 will be in your escrow account by tomorrow morning."
My phone vibrated in my hand. It was a text message from my wife, Clare.
How did it go? Are you okay?
I smiled, the coldness in my chest melting for the first time all day. I called her immediately.
"Hey, honey," I said softly as she picked up.
"Hey," Clare said, her voice tender. "How are you holding up? Did they make a scene?"
"They tried," I replied. "But the house is officially sold. Ten days to close. Over eight hundred thousand in cash."
May you like
Clare exhaled a long breath over the line. "Ian... are you sure you're ready for what happens next? Once this closes, there's no going back with your family."
"Clare," I said, watching my father walk out to the mailbox across the street, looking broken and lost. "They made their choice the second that shoe left Tessa's hand, and my mother told you to sit on the floor. They destroyed our family. I’m just balancing the ledger."
