it.

Not where have you been.

Not you look well.

Straight to the pitch.

‘A lot meaning what?’ I asked.

Madison folded her arms.

‘Grant left.’

I had only met Grant twice before I cut contact.

He had expensive teeth, careful hair, and the kind of confidence men borrow from debt.

Apparently that confidence had not held up.

He left two months earlier after Madison found messages between him and a woman from his office.

He moved out, stopped contributing to the mortgage, and let several bills slide before Madison realized how much of their life had been balanced on promises instead of cash.

My parents had stepped in, of course.

They always did with her.

They covered the shortfall, then the legal retainer, then after-school care, then a car repair.

My father took money from a retirement account.

My mother ran up two credit cards.

They were bleeding and still acting like it was loyalty instead of a pattern.

‘Her house is being taken back,’ my mother said.

‘The children need stability.’

There it was.

My father cleared his throat.

‘We saw the listing before it sold.

Five bedrooms.

Guest suite over the garage.

This would solve a lot of problems.’

I stared at him.

‘You looked up the listing?’

Madison snapped before he could answer.

‘Don’t act shocked.

It’s public.

Everybody can see it.’

Everybody.

As if the whole world had been invited to measure what I owned and decide whether I deserved it.

My mother softened her voice into something she probably thought sounded maternal.

‘It would only be temporary.

Madison and the kids could stay in the guest suite until she gets back on her feet.

You’re one person, Hannah.

You have all this space.’

I felt something cold and clear move through me.

Three years of no contact, and the first words they brought to my front door were not regret.

They were square footage.

‘No,’ I said.

The word landed like a slap.

Madison’s eyes widened.

‘No? You haven’t even thought about it.’

‘I have thought about exactly this for three years,’ I said.

‘I just didn’t know you’d be bold enough to say it out loud.’

My mother drew herself up.

‘This isn’t the time to punish anyone.

There are children involved.’

That sentence almost worked on me because it was the only honest one.

There were children involved.

My nieces were the only people in that entire conversation I felt anything soft for.

But softness was how my family got a foot in the door.

‘I am not punishing anyone,’ I said.

‘I’m refusing to hand over my home because the same people who told me I deserved nothing suddenly see something they want.’

My father finally stepped closer.

‘Family helps family.’

I looked at him for a long second.

‘Did family help me?’

He had the decency to look irritated instead of surprised.

My mother cut in fast.

‘This again? Are you really going to drag up old feelings when your sister’s life is falling apart?’

Old feelings.

As if the sentence you don’t deserve any help had floated through the air and vanished instead of cutting a line straight through the future.

Madison laughed once, sharp and mean.

‘You always do this.

You make everything about you.’

I turned to