“Because I have a signed transfer.”
I leaned back in my office chair.
“Do you?”
“Your signature, buddy.”
That was the confirmation I needed.
I legally recorded the call under my state’s one-party consent law.
Derek continued.
“I’m actually selling it tomorrow. Guy offered me thirty-five cash.”
There it was.
Not desperation.
Not transportation.
Profit.
“You’re selling it?”
“Sure am. Unless you want to buy it back.”
He laughed again.
I almost admired the stupidity.
“How much?”
“Forty.”
“For my own vehicle?”
“Consider it a family discount.”
I stayed silent until he became uncomfortable.
Then I said, “Meet me at my house tomorrow at six. Bring Madison. Bring Laura. Bring every document you have.”
He chuckled.
“Finally ready to negotiate?”
“Absolutely.”
That evening, Madison walked past carrying champagne.
“What’s that for?”
