Months earlier, I had given my parents a navy envelope at their anniversary dinner. Inside were the documents for the oceanfront cottage on Cypress Point. It wasn’t temporary. It wasn’t shared. It was theirs. After a lifetime of sacrifice—my father working endless hours and my mother stretching every dollar—I wanted them to finally have peace.

Now their suitcases sat on the porch like they’d been thrown out.

“What’s going on?” I demanded.

Daniel smirked. “Good, you’re here. We need to clear this up.”

My father looked smaller than I had ever seen him. “He says he has a right to be here,” he muttered.

“A right?” I snapped. “On what basis?”

Daniel pulled out a folder. “Claire and I have been managing the property. Your parents are getting older. The upkeep, taxes, liability—it’s too much. We decided to rent it out short-term. It’s more practical.”

“You decided?” I stepped closer. “You?”

Claire finally spoke. “Ethan, calm down. You’re overreacting.”

I stared at her in disbelief. “Overreacting? Mom is in tears, Dad was just locked out of his own house, and you think this is nothing?”

Daniel casually jingled the keys. “I’m protecting the asset.”