“The HOA's attorney sent over some archived correspondence.”
Marcus leaned forward.
“What kind of correspondence?”
“Emails between Patricia and a representative from Crestline.”
Marcus said nothing.
His attorney continued.
“They go back almost two years.”
Marcus felt a cold sensation move through his chest.
“What were they talking about?”
“Your property.”
Silence.
“Specifically,” the attorney said, “the eastern access strip.”
Marcus closed his eyes.
There it was.
The missing piece.
“She wanted me to sell.”
“Yes.”
“Did she ever ask me directly?”
“No.”
“Then why all the pressure?”
“Because according to these emails, she believed you would sell if enough pressure was applied.”
Marcus let out a slow breath.
His attorney continued.
“She also discussed the possibility of getting the HOA to declare certain activities on your property violations.”
Marcus looked toward the welding machine.
“So the garage thing…”
“Wasn't really about the garage.”
Marcus stared at the concrete floor.
For several seconds, neither man spoke.
Then Marcus asked, “How much did they offer?”
“That's the interesting part.”
His attorney's voice became quieter.
“They didn't want to buy the strip at market value.”
Marcus frowned.
“What did they offer?”
“Nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“They were trying to force you into an easement.”
Marcus laughed once.
It wasn't a happy laugh.
“You're telling me they wanted access to my property without paying me for it?”
“That's what it looks like.”
Marcus stood.
He walked slowly across the garage.
The same garage where Patricia had once parked her Maybach.
The same garage where she had looked at him and said she would leave when she felt like it.
Now everything made sense.
She hadn't been trying to win an argument.
She had been trying to make Marcus uncomfortable enough to surrender something valuable.
And she had almost succeeded.
Not because Marcus was weak.
Because he hadn't known the game existed.
His attorney said, “Marcus, there's more.”
Marcus stopped.
“What?”
“There was a meeting.”
“When?”
“About a year ago.”
“With who?”
“Patricia, three HOA board members, and two Crestline executives.”
Marcus's jaw tightened.
“Where?”
“Private room at a restaurant downtown.”
“What did they discuss?”
“Your property.”
Marcus rubbed his beard.
“Were they talking about me?”
“Yes.”
“What did they say?”
His attorney hesitated.
“Do you really want me to tell you?”
Marcus looked at the garage door.
“Yes.”
“They described you as an obstacle.”
The word hung in the air.
Obstacle.
Not neighbor.
Not homeowner.
Not member of the community.
Obstacle.
Marcus nodded slowly.
“Anything else?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“They said you were unlikely to cooperate voluntarily.”
Marcus smiled without humor.
“That part they got right.”
His attorney laughed quietly.
Then his tone changed.
“Marcus, there is one more thing.”
“What?”
“They may have broken the law.”
Marcus stopped smiling.
“What do you mean?”