The relatives were still there, stuck in that awkward limbo between being told to leave and not wanting to abandon me. They stood in clusters, whispering, eyes darting between me and my parents. Plates had been set down on surfaces as if everyone had forgotten how to eat.
When I walked in, the room quieted.
My father lifted his chin, trying to reclaim authority. “Morris will be here any second,” he announced, as if that would restore order.
A moment later, the doorbell rang.
The sound was crisp, cutting through the heavy silence like a signal.
My father’s shoulders relaxed, victory returning. He strode toward the door as if opening it would summon justice itself.
I, meanwhile, swiped once more on my phone. One last confirmation. One last command executed through an app I’d built myself, tied into the security infrastructure of the house.
When the front door opened, Morris stood there with a leather briefcase in hand, suit immaculate, hair neatly combed. He looked slightly annoyed, the way a man looks when he’s been pulled away from something more profitable.
“Well, Robert,” Morris said, stepping inside, voice carrying with the practiced confidence of someone used to rooms listening. “Calling me out on your daughter’s birthday night… this doesn’t sound like a peaceful situation.”
He set his briefcase down, glanced briefly at the relatives gathered in my living room, then let his gaze land on me. It was cold, appraising, as if I were a misbehaving client’s problem.
My father rushed to him, relief spilling out of him like a child running to a teacher. “You came, Morris.”
He clapped Morris on the shoulder as if sealing an alliance.
“As you can see,” my father said loudly, “my daughter is behaving in an utterly inhumane way toward her own family. I want you to clarify the ownership of this house and proceed with the legal steps necessary so the family can rightfully use it.”
Morris’s eyes flicked over me, then back to my father. He nodded slowly, the theatrical nod of a man about to deliver a lecture.
“Denise,” he said, voice softened into that patronizing tone attorneys sometimes use when they’re sure they’re speaking to someone without power, “I’ve heard the situation from your father. You’re single and hoarding such an enormous asset while denying access to family members in need could be interpreted as… contrary to the law.”