“No,” he replied. “And remember, Claire is your sister. We’re family.”
My father flinched. My mother looked at Claire with quiet heartbreak. Claire crossed her arms. “Daniel is just trying to be responsible. You dropped a huge responsibility on Mom and Dad.”
I almost laughed.
For years, my parents had sacrificed everything—for Claire, for Daniel, for everyone. I had already covered taxes and maintenance. There had been no burden—until they saw profit.
“Responsible?” I said. “You locked them out of a house you don’t own.”
Daniel waved the folder. “We have paperwork.”
I grabbed it. It was nothing but a rental draft, a lease proposal, and a meaningless “authorized representative” sheet.
“This is worthless,” I said.
“It’s enough,” he shot back.
I turned to Claire. “Did you approve this?”
She hesitated. That was answer enough.
“We were trying to help,” she said weakly.
“By kicking our parents out?”
“It was temporary,” Daniel insisted. “Just while renters stay. Do you know how much this place could make?”
My mother let out a broken sound. My father stared at the ocean, humiliated.
That was when I stopped seeing this as a misunderstanding.
It was a takeover.
