Chapter 10 - What Soielaydo Wanted
The diner sat just off the highway at the county line, one of those places with buzzing fluorescents and a pie case that never seemed to empty. I pulled in at 9:15 and saw her car already parked at the far edge of the lot, near the ditch. She was in the passenger seat, looking straight ahead. She'd promised to stay outside. My attorney, David, was waiting by the door in his windbreaker, holding two paper cups of coffee. He didn't drink diner coffee.
Soielaydo was already inside. He looked different out of a suit. Early thirties, close-cropped hair, a gray polo with a real estate logo stitched on the chest, not the blazer I'd seen him in at the rehearsal dinner. He stood when we came in, and I noticed he kept his phone face-down on the laminate table.
"Thanks for meeting," he said. His voice was quieter than I remembered.
David slid into the booth first, so I'd be across from Soielaydo. I set my phone on the table screen-down and didn't touch the coffee. Outside the window I could see the bride's car still idling. The waitress came over, and David ordered water for the table. Soielaydo said he was fine.
"We're here to understand what was planned for the house," David said. "No one is recording this beyond my notes unless we all agree. You reached out, you wanted to clarify your role."
Soielaydo nodded and wrapped both hands around his water glass. He breathed once, slow.
"Look, I need to say up front I never should have gotten involved," he said. "She's my cousin. Not just a client. She told me she was drowning and this was the only way."
He glanced toward the window, then back at me.
"She owes forty-eight thousand," he said. "Credit cards, and a family loan she took for the wedding. The venue, the dress, the flowers, all of it. She maxed two cards and her parents lent her twenty. They wanted it back by fall. She told me if you signed the deed after the ceremony, I could list your house next week and she'd pay everyone back and give me a commission. She said you trusted her, that you wouldn't read it."
I kept my hands flat on the table. I could hear the highway through the glass, the clink of silverware behind us.
"Whose idea was the commission?" David asked.
"Mine at first for a normal sale, but she pushed the timing," Soielaydo said. "She said it had to be right after. She said once you signed, she'd have the right to sell. That's why the message said the house is ours. She meant she and I would split the equity to cover her debts. She told me your mom left you the house free and clear, so there was no mortgage to deal with."
He finally turned his phone over. The case was black, same as the one I'd held in the hallway while my daughter clung to my jacket. He unlocked it and slid it across.
There was a thread with her name at the top. The bubbles were plain to read under the diner light.
*he'll sign, he trusts me, house is ours after*
*need listing photos next week while he's at work*
*don't worry he's not going to ask questions that night*
The timestamps were from two days before the wedding, then the morning of.
"She sent that last one at 7:40 a.m. while you were getting ready," he said. "I told her to leave your phone alone and just get the signature at the table. I didn't know she left her phone out in the hallway."
I read the lines twice. The gray bubbles were exact, the same phrasing I'd seen over my daughter's head. My chest tightened, but I kept breathing even.
"Did she say what she'd do if I didn't sign?" I asked.
Soielaydo shook his head. "She thought you would. She said you'd do anything to make the day smooth for your little girl. That was her leverage. She kept saying it would be security for her and Alice."
David made a note. "Can you AirDrop those screenshots to my email before you leave? The whole thread."
"Yeah. I have them saved," Soielaydo said. He pulled the phone back slightly. "I haven't listed anything. I didn't file anything with the MLS. I told her last night I was out. But I'm licensed. If you report me to the real estate board, I lose my ability to work. I have a kid too."
He looked directly at me then.
"If you don't report, I walk away. No deed, no listing, no contact with her about this again. I'll put that in writing if your attorney wants. I just need a chance to keep my license."
The waitress dropped the check face-down and left. David didn't pick it up.
"That's a decision my client will make with counsel, not in a diner," David said. "For today, we needed your account of the debt and the flip plan. You've provided that."
I stared at the phone with her words still lit up. Forty-eight thousand. Next week. He trusts me. It wasn't about a future together. It was a timeline for photos while I was at work.
I slid the phone back to him.
"Send the thread to David," I said. "All of it. Don't delete anything."
Soielaydo nodded, his hands shaking a little as he typed. "I will. Right now."
May you like
Through the window, I saw the bride's car door open and then close again. She hadn't come in. She was still waiting, and she didn't know what he'd just admitted. I left my coffee untouched and stood, feeling the vinyl seat stick and then release.
"We're done here," I said to David. "Let's go."
