Luke laughed sharply.
“Listen to yourself.”
I looked at him.
“I do.
That’s one of the reasons my company survived.”
My mother pressed her fingertips to her temple.
“Can we please not turn this into another fight?”
“I’m not fighting.
I’m answering.”
Dad pushed the ownership summary away.
“Fine.
We understand your position.
Let’s discuss the house.”
That was the moment I knew something had changed.
Sixteen months ago, he had pushed my pitch deck away because he believed the conversation was over when he decided it was over.
Now he pushed my document away because he needed the next page.
I took it out slowly.
“I’ve spoken with my attorney and an acquisition specialist.”
Luke frowned.
“Acquisition specialist?”
Mom looked at Dad.
Dad looked at me.
“Why would you do that?”
“Because your attorney contacted me about putting money into distressed property.
I wanted independent advice.”
“This isn’t distressed property,” Dad said immediately.
“Then you don’t need my money.”
The silence was absolute.
Dad’s hand flattened against the table.
“Don’t play games, Elena.”
“I’m not.
You taught me not to put money into something I don’t understand.
Remember?”
Luke looked away.
My father did remember.
I could see it in his face.
I slid the new proposal across the table.
“I’m willing to help preserve the property.
But I won’t make a personal loan, and I won’t transfer money without control over what I’m funding.”
Mom stared at the packet without touching it.
“What does that mean?”
“It means I’m willing to purchase the property through a separate holding company at an independently supported value.
You receive the liquidity you need.
The property stays connected to the family.
You and Dad get a written transition period.
Everything is documented.”
Luke’s face changed first.
“Purchase it?”
“Yes.”
“You want our house?”
“I want clean terms.”
He laughed in disbelief and turned to our parents.
“You’re not seriously considering this.”
Dad’s voice was low.
“Elena, we asked for help.”
“That’s what I’m offering.”
