I didn’t respond.
Instead, I made breakfast for Emma and Noah.
A little later, Evelyn called.
“The documents were delivered,” she confirmed.
“Thank you.”
“Your brother has already contacted my office.”
“What did he say?”
“He demanded an explanation for the allegations concerning the property documents. I’ve advised him to obtain independent legal counsel.”
I took a slow breath.
“And my parents?”
“They received the complete accounting.”
Eleven years of payments.
The original signed agreements.
The mortgage records.
Every major repair I’d funded.
The financial history nobody had bothered to acknowledge.
Around nine, I finally returned my father’s call.
He answered immediately.
“Julia, did you really pay all these bills?”
“Yes, Dad.”
“The property taxes?”
“Yes.”
“The roof?”
“Yes.”
“The heating system?”
“Yes.”
He fell silent.
“I knew you’d helped at the beginning.”
“I’ve been helping for eleven years.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
I closed my eyes.
“I did. You signed the documents.”
He didn’t answer.
“And when Brent started taking credit, you let him.”
There was another long silence.
Then my mother took the phone.
“Julia, this is humiliating!”
“Which part, Mom?”
“The legal papers. The suggestion that we owe you money!”
“You signed a repayment agreement.”
“But we’re family!”
“I know.”
“Then why are you doing this?”
