One for Tracy.
One for Brandon.
One for Sierra.
All legally airtight.
All signed.
Then I made one final call.
The sheriff’s office.
The night I chose was quiet.
Too quiet.
Tracy was in the living room, wine glass in hand. Brandon was gaming. Sierra was on FaceTime.
Normal.
Comfortable.
Clueless.
I walked in holding a folder.
“Hey,” I said calmly. “We need to talk.”
Tracy didn’t even look up. “If this is about rent, I already told you—”
“It’s not.”
That’s when she noticed my tone.
And something in her expression… shifted.
PART 3 — The Fallout
I placed the folder on the table.
“Actually,” I said, “this is about the house.”
Tracy let out a short laugh. “Good. Because you need to start acting like an adult—”
I opened the folder.
And slid the deed across the table.
Silence.
Real, heavy silence.
At first, she didn’t understand what she was looking at.
Then her eyes moved.
Line by line.
Until they stopped on my name.
“That’s… not real,” she said, too quickly.
“It is,” I replied.
My voice didn’t shake.
I’d had weeks to prepare for this moment.
Brandon finally looked up. “What’s going on?”
Sierra leaned closer. “Wait… what is that?”
“It means,” I said, meeting Tracy’s eyes, “this house isn’t Dad’s.”
I paused.
“It’s mine.”
“No,” Tracy snapped, standing up so fast her chair scraped the floor. “No, that’s not possible. We’ve lived here for YEARS—”
