“What details?”
I looked at the second page.
Collections.
Unpaid loans.
A previous eviction filing that had been settled before judgment.
And a foreclosure attached to a property I had never heard about.
Mr.
Spencer named each item calmly.
Austin’s face grew harder with every word.
Christina finally walked closer.
“That foreclosure wasn’t his fault,” she said through the glass.
“His business partner ruined everything.”
My mother turned toward her.
“You knew?”
Christina hesitated just long enough to answer the question.
Austin slapped his palm against the door.
“None of this matters.
Daniela has always paid the rent.
She’ll pay it now.”
There it was again.
Not a request.
Not an apology.
A statement of ownership.
I closed the folder.
“No.”
Austin blinked.
I had disagreed with him before, but usually with explanations.
I would explain why I was tired, why a bill was too high, why I needed notice before transferring money.
Then he would argue with every reason until I surrendered simply to end the conversation.
This time, I gave him nothing to fight.
“No,” I repeated.
My mother shook her head as if I had spoken in a language she did not recognize.
“You cannot leave your father and me without a home.”
“You had a home last night.”
“We still do.”
“Then why did you tell me I had the wrong house?”
The lobby became silent.
My mother’s eyes dropped.
Austin stepped between us.
“She was making a point.”
“What point?”
“That you don’t get to control everyone just because you help with money.”
I looked at him through the glass.
“I brought a key, Austin.”
He frowned.
I lifted the small white ceramic bunny from the box.
My mother’s eyes fixed on the brass key hanging beneath it.
“What is that?” she asked.
“The reason I spent six weeks comparing houses instead of visiting.”
I placed the Willow Creek lease against the glass.
Her name and my father’s names had been listed as intended occupants before I amended it that morning.
The document showed the address, the one-story layout, and the move-in date.
My mother read enough to understand.
Her mouth opened, but no sound came out.
I told her about the fenced yard.
The grab bars.
