“You had the money.”
“That did not make it yours.”
Daniel slid a printed ledger across the table.
It listed every payment I had made into the trust since Dad’s death.
Taxes, insurance, repairs, emergency plumbing, roof deposits, and utility arrears totaled more than sixty-three thousand dollars.
Mike had contributed less than eight thousand.
Mom stared at the numbers as though she had never seen them collected in one place.
“You told me Mike handled most of this,” I said.
“He helped in other ways.”
“By living there without rent?”
Mike kicked the leg of a chair.
“So this is about money now.”
“It became about money when you tried to borrow against property you did not own.”
A car door slammed outside.
Mike looked toward the window, perhaps expecting the police.
Instead, Tyler stood on the sidewalk in yesterday’s clothes.
Someone had dropped him off at the end of the driveway.
