Marcus Alvarez stepped forward before Grant could open his mouth. He pulled an official folder from his briefcase and flipped it open.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Marcus announced with booming legal authority. “My name is Marcus Alvarez. I am the legal representative for Daniel Reed, the sole, registered, and exclusive fee-simple owner of this real property.”
The investors looked at each other, murmuring in confusion.
“That’s a lie!” Grant yelled, his face turning an alarming shade of crimson. “He is an estranged family member trying to extort our development company!”
“Is that so, Mr. Sterling?” Marcus pulled out a certified copy of the registered deed bearing the official Buncombe County gold seal. He handed it directly to the lead investor in the cashmere coat. “Here is the certified title deed. As you can see, Daniel Reed owns this property. Grant Sterling and Highland Heritage Hospitality have zero legal title, zero leasehold interest, and zero authority to execute contracts, surveys, or renovations on these premises.”
The lead investor glanced at the document, his eyes going wide. He immediately turned toward Grant, his voice dropping into arctic fury. “Grant… what the hell is this? You told our fund that you held the deed in an family holding company!”
“I… we do! It’s in probate transition!” Grant stammered, sweat breaking out along his hairline despite the near-freezing temperature. “It’s a technicality! My mother-in-law—”
“Mrs. Evelyn Reed does not own this house,” Marcus interrupted firmly, pointing toward the porch where Evelyn sat frozen in absolute horror. “She is an at-will guest whose occupancy license has just been formally revoked.”
Marcus walked up the porch steps and placed a thick white envelope directly into Evelyn’s lap.
“Mrs. Reed, this is a formal legal Notice to Vacate. You have thirty days to remove your personal belongings from the property. Any unauthorized commercial agents, appraisers, or contractors found on this land after today will be arrested for criminal trespass.”
Deputy Miller stepped out from near the driveway, resting his hand casually on his duty belt, making his presence unmistakably clear.
“This walkthrough is over, gentlemen,” Marcus told the investors. “Unless you wish to be named as co-defendants in an active felony fraud investigation.”
The lead investor didn’t say another word. He shoved Grant’s architectural plans back into Grant’s chest, turned on his heel, and barked at his associates: “Get in the cars. Now. Call our general counsel. We’re freezing Grant’s escrow accounts immediately.”
“Wait! Mr. Harrison, please!” Grant chased after them, his voice cracking with panic. “We can restructure! We can negotiate with him! Don’t pull the funding!”
