“I didn’t.”
Mom’s eyes locked on the screen.
“You were recording?”
“The entire time.”
I pressed play.
Her own voice came from the phone first.
“Mary wants this room now.
Give me the key.”
Then mine.
“No.”
A rustle.
A warning.
The sharp sound of the bat striking my shoulder.
James gasping.
Dad saying Mom’s name.
Mary’s voice, cold and unmistakable:
“Get out of our room.”
Nobody spoke when the recording ended.
James looked at Mary as though he no longer recognized her.
“You told me Laura agreed to move,” he said.
“She was going to,” Mary replied.
“She was just being dramatic.”
“You told me your parents owned this house.”
“They practically do.”
The lawyer closed the folder.
“They do not.”
James rubbed both hands over his face.
He had been silent at dinner, and I had resented him for it.
Now I saw something else beneath his silence: fear.
Mary had not only lied to me.
She had been lying to him.
He looked toward the moving truck.
“You said we could use this address as the administrative base while the hospital project was being approved.”
Mary stepped closer to him.
“We can.
Once Laura calms down, she’ll sign whatever we need.”
I almost admired her certainty.
Even with police in the hallway and the deed in a lawyer’s hands, she still believed pressure would make me surrender.
James’s expression changed.
“What exactly did you submit with the preliminary financing documents?” he asked.
Mary’s lips parted.
Mom interrupted.
“This is not the time.
Laura has always been jealous of her sister.
She is trying to destroy Mary’s future over one little family disagreement.”
“One little disagreement?” I repeated.
I turned toward the movers.
“You can take everything that has already been unloaded back to the truck.
Nothing belonging to Mary stays in this house.”
Mary rushed toward me.
“You cannot do this to my child.”
“Do not use your child as a shield for what you did.”
“He needs a home.”
“So did I.”
The words stopped her.
For years, Mary had known exactly how things worked in that family.
