Before the Knock
At the dinner table, my mother-in-law slid a contract across to me, right in front of more than 20 relatives.
"Just sign it," she said lightly. "Consider it a favor to me."
I looked down.
A home mortgage agreement for 150,000 dollars.
Across from me, my husband's younger brother, Jim Canfield, watched with a grin. Beside him, my husband's eldest sister, Cindy Canfield, urged impatiently, saying, "Shirley, what are you waiting for? Just sign it."
I said I needed to go home and talk it over with Howard Canfield first.
My mother-in-law's expression darkened. "What? You can't even make this decision for your own marriage?"
That night, I did not sign anything.
Later, she sent a three-minute voice message in the family group chat, accusing me of being childish, ungrateful, and heartless.
More than 70 replies followed—not a single one in my defense.
A month later, I came home from work to find three men waiting at my door, there to seize the house.
I pulled out my phone and checked the property registry.
The record was clear.
[Mortgaged. 150,000 dollars.]