is this? Why are lawyers calling my home?”
“My dad’s home,” I corrected calmly.
Silence.
Then her tone sharpened.
“You have no right—”
“I have every right,” I said. “And you know why.”
She tried a new strategy—crying.
“I lost your father,” she whispered. “How can you do this to me?”
I didn’t raise my voice.
“I lost him too,” I said. “The difference is… you got to stand beside him while he died. And you used that time to steal.”
Her breath hitched.
Then she hissed, “You’ll regret this.”
