"Dirk Dickerson—are the documents all ready?"
Dirk didn't answer.
Two people trailed behind him.
"Mrs. Fox," he said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "you're being accused of extortion."
The smile on Mom's face froze.
"What did you just say?"
Dirk pulled a file from his briefcase.
"The evidence you asked me to gather—" He flipped to a page. "—was fabricated by you."
Dad descended the stairs and clapped the lawyer on the shoulder.
"Appreciate the hard work, Dirk."
Mom stared at the lawyer.
"My grandfather helped you," I shouted.
Dirk looked down and adjusted his cuffs.
"Old Mr. Abbott was kind to me," he said. "Which is exactly why I'm telling you—don't fight this."
Dad produced a check.
Dirk took it without hesitation.
Mom laughed suddenly.
"How much?" she asked Dad. "I can match it."
Dad shook his head.
"No. You can't."
He stepped closer.
"Every account under your name was frozen yesterday."
Mom gripped the edge of the table. Her knuckles went white—translucent.
"The house?"
"Mortgaged," Dad said, his tone light, almost casual. "The company needed the liquidity."
He glanced at the clock on the wall.
"You have half a day to move out."
Mom stood perfectly straight.
"I want to see the documents."
Dad gestured to the lawyer.
A thick stack of papers was handed over.
Mom flipped through them fast.
Her hands were trembling.
She reached the last page—and stopped.
The signatures were real.
They were on the consent forms she'd signed yesterday—but now there were extra lines of fine print at the bottom.
She leaned in to read them.
Then she grabbed the documents and ripped them apart.
"Doesn't matter," Dad said with a smile. "The originals are in the safe."
Mom stared at the shredded paper scattered across the floor.
Slowly, she crouched down and began picking up the pieces.
One scrap. Then another. Careful, deliberate.
The lawyer left first.
Dad was heading out too.
"I'll be back tonight to take the house."
The door shut.
Mom was still crouching there. Torn paper piled in the folds of her skirt.
"Mom."
I touched her shoulder.
She looked up.
Her eyes were dry. Not a single tear.
"Just as well," she said. "Now that the gloves are off, we can get to work."
After school, two strangers stopped me at the gate.
"Your dad sent us."
They pulled me into a car.
I didn't fight it.
The car drove to the riverbank.
The wind was fierce.
"Call your mother."
A phone was shoved into my hand.
"Tell her to stop making trouble."