PART 9 — The Web Closes
Mr. Houtman stepped resolutely into the living room, his shoes clicking on the linoleum. His appearance brought an immediate shift in the power dynamics. Sabine automatically took a step back, clutching her coat tightly, while Jons still sat like a heap of misery on the floor.
"Mrs. De Jong, Mr. Fletcher," Houtman began in a calm, businesslike tone that permitted no contradiction. "I strongly advise you to lower your voices and listen carefully to what is about to happen. As the proxy and legal advisor to the estate of the late Mrs. Clara H. de Jong, and based on the power of attorney Thomas has just granted me, all actions surrounding the transfer of ownership of the property at Lindelaan are frozen with immediate effect."
Sabine bit her lip, her eyes narrowing into slits of pure venom. "You don't have a leg to stand on! We have the official deed from notary Veenstra!"
"Notary Veenstra has meanwhile been informed of the digital manipulation of the signature," Houtman replied coolly. "Furthermore, the investigative judge has just issued a conservatory attachment on the property and all associated bank accounts linked to the sham transaction. That means, Mrs. De Jong, that from this moment on you cannot withdraw a single cent, dissolve any contracts, and you must vacate the premises within forty-eight hours."
The words hit like a bomb. Sabine grabbed the edge of the table to keep her balance. Her chest heaved with fury and disbelief. "You can't do that! We did renovations! We put money into it!"
"Money that came from loans you never should have taken out with collateral that didn't belong to you," Houtman said relentlessly. "Every euro you put into that house under false pretenses will be included in the legal settlement as damages for Thomas."
I slowly turned toward Sabine. The woman who less than forty hours ago had shown me the door with a disdainful look and told me I didn't belong to the family. Now she stood there, stripped of all arrogance, confronted with the harsh reality of her own greed.
"You thought you could break me, Sabine," I said softly, but with an intensity that cut to the bone. "You thought I was an old man you could use as a free housekeeper and handyman, and then throw in the trash. But you forgot that a house built on lies collapses at the very first storm."
Sabine opened her mouth to retort with something vicious, but no sound came out anymore. She abruptly turned around, grabbed Jons by the arm, and hauled him to his feet. "Come on!" she snapped at him, her voice trembling with humiliation. "We're getting out of here. This isn't over yet!"
With wild movements, they stormed out of the apartment while Noah pressed anxiously against my leg. The door clicked shut behind them. Silence returned to the room, but the air felt lighter, as if a suffocating fog had lifted for good.
