Brother Tried Selling My Beach Condo – He Didn’t Know I Own The Resort

“Well, I did some research and found the property records. That little condo you bought as an investment…” He said it like “investment” was a cute fantasy.

“It’s worth something now. Maybe $180,000 based on comparable sales in the area,” he continued.

“Cameron, let me finish,” I tried to say.

“I know you probably can’t afford the property taxes and maintenance. Small condos like that are money pits. So, I took the initiative,” he said.

“Found a buyer through a real estate agent friend. Cash offer, quick close: $185,000. That’ll clear your debts and give you a fresh start,” he explained.

“You did what?” I asked.

“I helped you. The buyer is motivated and ready to close next week. I already started the paperwork since I have that old power of attorney from when you were doing that project in Costa Rica,” he said.

“Remember? You gave me access to handle stuff while you were out of the country. I can sign on your behalf. Easy,” he added.

That power of attorney—I’d forgotten about it. Five years ago, during a three-month conservation project, I’d given Cameron limited power of attorney to handle a single property transaction if needed.

It was supposed to expire after that transaction. Apparently, he still had the document.

“Cameron, you can’t sell my property,” I said.

“Bro, I’m helping you. $185,000 is more than you’d get listing it yourself. The buyer even waives inspection. You should be thanking me,” he argued.

“I’m not selling,” I stated.

“Ethan, be realistic. You can’t afford to keep a beach condo. The taxes alone are probably killing you. Take the money, clear your debts, and start fresh,” he insisted.

“Cameron, listen to me very carefully. That property is not for sale. You don’t have authority to sell it,” I told him.

“I have power of attorney for a specific transaction that concluded five years ago. That authority expired. If you attempt to sell my property, you’ll be committing fraud,” I explained.

There was silence. “Fraud? Jesus, Ethan, I’m trying to help you,” he said.

“Then stop. Don’t sign anything. Don’t talk to any buyers. Leave my property alone,” I commanded.

“Mom and Dad agree with me. We all think you…” he started.

“You discussed my property with Mom and Dad?” I asked.

“Of course. We’re worried about you. This sale is the best thing for your financial situation,” he replied.

A Confrontation in the Lobby

I hung up immediately. I called Patricia, my resort manager.

“Patricia, I need you to do something urgently. Someone may attempt to fraudulently sell my personal condo. I need security increased, and I need documentation of ownership posted clearly,” I told her.

“Mr. Donovan, I’ll handle it immediately. Should I alert our legal team?” she asked.

“Yes. And Patricia, the person attempting the sale is my brother. He’s operating under an expired power of attorney. If he shows up at the property or contacts resort staff, I want to be notified immediately,” I instructed.

“Understood, sir,” she replied.

I sat on my balcony watching the waves, processing what Cameron had tried to do. My phone buzzed with the family group chat.

“Cameron just tried to help Ethan sell his little condo. He got defensive,” Cameron wrote.

“Mom, he’s probably embarrassed about his financial situation,” he added.

“Dad, the sale sounds smart. Maybe we should talk to him together,” the chat continued.

“I already found a buyer. $185,000 cash. Should have the deal done by next week,” Cameron posted.

“That’s wonderful. He needs the money,” Mom replied.

I stared at the messages. They were planning to force through a sale of my property.

I pulled up recent appraisals. The property was worth approximately $1.2 million since it was a premium unit in a now luxury resort.

They were trying to sell my $1.2 million condo for $185,000. I didn’t respond to the group chat; instead, I called my attorney, David.

“David, I need help with a family situation that’s about to become a legal situation,” I said.

After explaining everything, David was quiet for a moment. “Ethan, to be clear, your brother is attempting to sell your personal residence, which is part of a resort you own, for a fraction of its value using expired legal authority? Correct?” he asked.

“That’s attempted theft, fraud, and possibly real estate fraud. We need to shut this down immediately,” he stated.

Over the next twenty-four hours, David worked quickly. He sent cease and desist letters and contacted the buyer’s agent, who was shocked to learn the actual value and ownership situation.

He filed notices with the county recorder’s office and prepared documentation for potential criminal charges. Then Cameron showed up at the resort.

Patricia called me at 2:00 p.m. Wednesday. “Mr. Donovan, your brother just arrived at the front desk with a real estate agent and a couple who appear to be buyers. He’s demanding access to your condo to show it,” she said.

“Don’t grant access. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes,” I replied.

I was already at the resort, having been staying in my condo since Cameron’s call, anticipating this exact scenario. I took the elevator to the lobby.

I wore what I always wore: shorts, a t-shirt, and flip-flops. I looked like any other beach bum, not the owner of a $23.5 million resort.

Cameron stood at the front desk arguing with Patricia. Behind him were a nervous real estate agent and a middle-aged couple who looked excited about buying a beach condo.

“I don’t care about your policies,” Cameron was saying loudly. “I have power of attorney for the owner. I’m authorized to access the property.”

Patricia remained calm. “Sir, as I’ve explained, that power of attorney is expired and invalid. We cannot grant access without Mr. Donovan’s explicit permission,” she said.

“This is ridiculous! It’s my brother’s condo. He’s just being difficult because he’s embarrassed about his finances,” Cameron argued.

I approached the desk. “Hey, Cameron,” I said.

He spun around. “Ethan, finally! Tell your desk clerk here to let us see the condo. These are the buyers, Tom and Sandra. They’re ready to make an offer,” he said.

“I told you the property isn’t for sale,” I replied.

“Ethan, come on, be reasonable. $185,000 is a great price for a small condo like this,” Cameron said.

The real estate agent was looking around the resort lobby at the marble floors, the custom lighting, and the oceanfront views through floor-to-ceiling windows.

You could see her recalculating. “Mr. Donovan,” she said carefully. “Can I ask what comparable sales you’re basing your valuation on? Because this resort appears to be quite upscale.”

“The condo isn’t for sale at any price,” I said.

Cameron grabbed my arm. “Stop being stubborn! You need this money. We’re trying to help you,” he insisted.

Patricia cleared her throat. “Mr. Cameron Donovan, I need to inform you that resort security has been notified of this situation. Additionally, our legal team has prepared documentation regarding your attempted fraudulent sale of resort property,” she said.

Cameron stared at her. “Resort property? It’s my brother’s condo!” he exclaimed.

“Yes,” Patricia said calmly. “Your brother’s private residence, which happens to be within the Pelican Bay Resort, which your brother owns.”

The silence was deafening. “What?” Cameron said.

“I’m the owner of the Pelican Bay Resort,” I said quietly. “Have been for three years. The condo you’re trying to sell for $185,000 is worth approximately $1.2 million and is my private residence.”

Cameron’s face went through several colors. “You own this resort? All thirty-two units? The restaurant? Seven acres of beachfront property?” he asked.

“Current valuation: $23.5 million,” I added.

The real estate agent made a small choking sound. Tom and Sandra, the potential buyers, were backing away slowly.

“That’s impossible,” Cameron said. “You work at a nonprofit. You drive a shitty car. You live in a crappy apartment.”

“I live here,” I corrected. “The apartment in Wilmington is an investment property I rent out. This is my primary residence. Has been for two years.”

“But you don’t have money! Mom and Dad said…” he stammered.

“Mom and Dad assumed. You all assumed. I never confirmed anything. You just never asked enough questions to learn the truth,” I told him.

Patricia had her tablet out. “Mr. Donovan, should I brief your brother on the legal situation? Our attorneys have prepared quite comprehensive documentation,” she asked.

“Please,” I said.