Danielle’s hands shook so hard the pages rattled. “This is a mistake,” she said, but her voice had already lost its certainty. “Your parents said this was handled. They said this was ours.” I let the silence stretch, watching the fantasy collapse in real time. “It was handled,” I said quietly. “By me. With my money. On a title with my name and no one else’s.” Behind her, Tyler had gone gray, the lamp still absurdly tucked under his arm as though setting it down would make the truth more real.

Mom finally spoke, her voice climbing toward panic. “Corinne, sweetheart, we can work this out as a family.” That word again. Family. The one they used only when they needed me to absorb something. Danielle spun toward my parents, the folder crushed in her fist. “You told us we owned it!” she screamed. And that was when Dad, who had spent the entire afternoon staring at the floor, finally lifted his head and said the sentence that turned the whole room against itself.