The car pulled up twelve minutes later—a silver Camry driven by a quiet man named Tony who kept glancing in the rear-view like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
Sophia climbed in with them, telling herself she’d just make sure they got inside safe.
They drove through tidy new streets lined with half-built houses. Grace kept murmuring, “Third right… yellow house with the white shutters… Ryan showed us pictures…”
Tony slowed. Then stopped.
There was no yellow house. There was an empty lot, a crooked FOR SALE sign, and knee-high weeds.
Grace made a sound like a wounded animal. “James… where’s our house?”
James—her husband—leaned forward, squinting. “This is Flower Road. He showed me. He sent pictures…”
Tony met Sophia’s eyes in the mirror. His look said scam.
Sophia’s heart started pounding so hard she felt it in her teeth.
“James,” she said carefully, “do you have any paperwork? Anything with an address?”
“Ryan handled everything,” Grace whispered. “He said we didn’t need to worry. He sold our old place on Chester Avenue… said it was too big, too much upkeep… said he’d invested the money so we’d never have to worry again.”
Sophia already knew what Zillow was about to tell her.