Chapter 7 - WHY VICTOR REALLY WANTED THE HOUSE
The house was worth far more than Victor initially admitted.
A developer had quietly approached him months earlier.
Several neighboring properties had been assembled for a luxury redevelopment project.
My lot was one of the remaining pieces.
The offer was nearly twice the value I believed the house had.
Victor never told me.
He told Rita.
That changed the entire scheme.
Rita was not simply waiting to live in my mother’s house.
She was a real-estate professional.
She understood what the property could become.
Emails obtained during the divorce later showed discussions about selling after transfer.
Not living there.
Selling.
The house I associated with my mother’s kitchen, my daughter’s first steps, Christmas mornings, and my father planting roses had become a number in a spreadsheet between my husband and his mistress.
Victor’s financial situation made the motive worse.
His medical problems had reduced his income.
He had made several poor investments.
Debt was higher than I knew.
The Brookline sale would solve much of it.
Rita would receive part through their future arrangement.
Victor would rebuild.
I would, according to one message, be “comfortable enough somewhere smaller.”
Comfortable enough.
That phrase hurt more than the affair.
He had already relocated me in his imagination.
Not homeless.
Not destitute.
Just somewhere smaller.
Somewhere that did not interfere with what he wanted.
The property draft was never completed.
The developer had no knowledge of the improper plan.
Once my attorney contacted them, they withdrew all informal discussions until ownership questions were resolved.
There were no ownership questions.
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The deed remained mine.
Victor had simply hoped to create some.
