“What did you do?”
His voice was shaking with rage.
“These people came to the cabin claiming they work for you. They said you bought it. That’s impossible.”
“Is it?”
“Yes. It’s been in our family for generations. Dad owns it.”
“Dad sold it along with 17 other properties. The previous owners needed quick cash for personal reasons.”
There was silence on the other end.
“Then you’re lying.”
“The property management company should have given you their business card. You can call them if you have questions about the rental process.”
“Rental process? What rental process? This is our family cabin.”
“It was your family cabin. Now it’s my cabin. If you’d like to use it, you’ll need to book it through Alpine Lake Services like any other client. They offer competitive rates for the area.”
More silence.
Then, in a voice I’d never heard from Marcus before, small and confused:
“How?”
“How what?”
“How do you own it? You’re just a—you work for—you don’t have that kind of money.”
I could have explained about property acquisition, about investment strategies, about how being underestimated in negotiations was actually an advantage. I could have told him about the portfolio deal, about leveraging market knowledge and relationships to create opportunities.
Instead, I said simply:
“I earned it.”
The line went quiet for almost a minute.
Then Marcus said:
“This isn’t over.”
“Actually, it is. David has photos of the damage to the property. The repair bill is about $3,000. Your security deposit, if you choose to rent in the future, will need to account for your track record.”
I hung up.