The audacity of that sentence was almost impressive.
“No.”
“You haven’t even thought about it.”
“I thought about it when I found my daughter packing a duffel bag because your mother told her she had lost her room.”
Bianca’s eyes filled with anger.
“So you’re punishing my kids because Mom handled it badly?”
“Your children are not being punished.
They still have their home.”
“You know how small it is.”
“Yes.
And before today, I might have helped you look for another solution.”
She stared at me.
“Before today?”
“Before you arrived with a moving truck.”
Her mouth closed.
Daniel looked at her.
“Did you really believe we had agreed to move out?”
Bianca rubbed her palm over her stomach.
“Mom said it was settled.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
Bianca looked away.
Daniel waited.
Finally she said, “I thought she would convince you.”
There it was.
Not confusion.
Not a mistake.
A gamble.
Helena had apparently convinced everyone that possession would become permission.
Move the boxes in.
Displace Ava.
Create enough inconvenience.
Make refusal feel cruel.
Then wait for Daniel to surrender rather than cause a scene.
The plan depended entirely on us being too embarrassed to stop them.
Unfortunately for Helena, she had chosen a public courtyard to discover we were no longer embarrassed.
Daniel ended his call.
“The emergency access code is being changed today,” he said.
“And your key is no longer authorized for any reason.”
Helena stared at him.
“You can’t ban your mother from your home.”
“I just did.”
“Over this?”
Daniel looked toward Ava.
“Yes.
Over this.”
Helena’s face twisted.
“That girl has turned you against your family.”
The sentence landed harder than anything else she had said.
Ava’s eyes dropped.
I moved toward her, but Daniel spoke first.
“Her name is Ava.
She is my daughter.
She is my family.”
Helena blinked.
“I didn’t mean—”
“You called her useless.”
