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Before the Knock Novel Cover

Before the Knock

At a crowded family dinner, Shirley’s mother-in-law demands she sign a $150,000 mortgage agreement. Supported by Jim and Cindy Canfield, the family pressures her, but Shirley refuses to act without her husband Howard. Her defiance sparks a brutal wave of online harassment from her in-laws. One month later, the consequences manifest when men arrive to seize her home. Shirley discovers the property registry has been updated; the mortgage is active, leaving her to solve the mystery of who forged her life away.
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Chapter 2

Not a word was spoken for the whole ride.

As we got close to home, I could not hold back any longer. "Why didn't you stand up for me today?"

His voice was tired. "She's my mom. What was I supposed to say?"

"She's asking me to put the house up for a 150,000-dollar loan. Does that seem right to you?"

He sighed, conceding. Then, he said, "It's not right. However, you turned her down in front of everyone. How do you think that made her feel?"

"So what am I supposed to do? Just sign it anyway?"

He did not say a word.

"Howard, that house's down payment was 90,000 dollars. My parents sold their place to scrape that together. They're living in a rental now."

"I know that..."

"You do? Then, why didn't you back me up?"

He stayed quiet.

We went to bed that night, wrapped in silence.

When I woke up the next day and checked my phone, the family group chat was in an uproar.

Darcy had left a long voice message. I hit play.

"You all saw what happened yesterday. I asked her for a simple favor, and she turned me down in front of everyone. How embarrassing for me, her mother-in-law.

"Do I look like someone who'd mooch off her? Jim's going to pay back that loan in a couple of months. I wouldn't stiff her. However, she treats me like I'm out to rob her.

"Okay, her parents paid the down payment, but her name's on the deed. What's that got to do with them? She's part of the Canfield family now. What's hers is ours. And she wouldn't even let me borrow it?

"Tell me, with a daughter-in-law like that, can I rely on her when I'm old and gray?"

The message ended, and there was already a flood of replies.

[Cindy: Don't let it get to you. People who are small-minded aren't worth your time.]

[Becky: I've been saying from the start, this daughter-in-law isn't cut out for our family. She's petty to the core.]

[Jim: Shirley really can't see the big picture. Once I hit it big, she's definitely not going to be part of my crowd.]

[Nevaeh: You know, some people get married and immediately want a piece of the pie. Trying to get her to lift a finger is like trying to climb to heaven.]

There were also messages from relatives I did not even recognize.

[The youth of today have no clue about basic social graces.]

[Marrying her was a waste. He might as well have stayed single.]

[And Howard, what on earth did he see in her?]

I scrolled through the chat logs from top to bottom.

More than a hundred messages.

Not one person defended me.

Not even Howard.

He was right there in the chat, silent as a ghost.

I dropped my phone and just sat on the edge of my bed, lost in thought for ages.

Then, I called my mom.

"Mom, I need to talk to you about something."

I went over what happened yesterday.

There was a long pause on the other end.

"She wanted you to mortgage the house for 150,000 dollars?"

"Yeah."

"Your dad and I scraped together the down payment by selling our place."

"I remember."

"Did you sign anything?"

"No, I didn't."

My mom's voice softened as she said, "Good. It's 150,000 dollars, and she thinks she can just ask for it like it's nothing? Does she think money grows on trees?"

"However, now, my mother-in-law is bad-mouthing me in the chat..."

"Let her talk." My mom's voice hardened. "Words won't kill you. If you'd signed and then couldn't pay, we'd lose the house. Your dad's over 60 now and still breaking his back at work. That money was earned with his sweat. What has she ever given you?"

"Mom..."

"Trust me, you did the right thing. Give it a few days. She'll cool off, and it'll all blow over."

I just grunted, not bothering with words.

I hung up and sprawled out on my bed, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

Maybe my mom had a point.

I would give it a few days, and things would look up.

A month went by.

I clocked out early that day, and I got home by 5:30 p.m.

Stepping out of the elevator, I was greeted by three men at my door.

Dressed in black jackets, they were in a heated discussion with the building's management.

"If she's not home, she's not home. We'll wait," they said.

"And who might you be?" The manager pressed for an answer.

"We're here to collect a debt," the ringleader said. "She's behind on her mortgage: 150 grand. It's been a month. We're here to repossess the house."

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