PART5

My name appeared at the bottom of all three.

But I had never written them.

My father had apparently sent these letters to Margaret during her trip.

The dates were spread across several weeks.

I looked up.

“Why would they go to so much trouble?”

Margaret’s expression hardened.

“Because they didn’t want me to discover that you never received the apartment.”

I swallowed.

“Did Emma know?”

Margaret looked at me carefully.

“I think she knew more than she admitted at dinner.”

I sat down.

For a moment, I couldn’t move.

Then I remembered something.

“Wait.”

Margaret looked at me.

“What?”

“Emma said Mom told her I would accept it.”

“Yes.”

“But if she believed that, why did she panic when you mentioned the deed?”

Margaret was quiet.

I continued.

“She didn’t look confused when you said the apartment was mine. She looked terrified.”

Margaret nodded slowly.

“That’s something we should ask her about.”

At 10:17 p.m., my phone started ringing.

Dad.

I stared at the screen.

Margaret looked at me.

“You don’t have to answer.”

I let it ring twice before picking up.

“Hello?”

“Lydia, where are you?”

“At my apartment.”

There was a long silence.

Then he said, “We need to talk.”

I looked around the living room.

“My apartment?”

“Don’t start with that.”

I almost couldn’t believe what I had heard.

“Don’t start with what, Dad?”

“You’re making this situation worse than it needs to be.”

I closed my eyes.

“Emma was living in a property that Aunt Margaret bought for me. You knew that. Linda knew that. You gave her the keys.”

“We were trying to help your sister.”

“By giving her my apartment?”

“She needed somewhere to stay.”

“And I didn’t?”

Another silence.

Then his voice became softer.

“Lydia, you know Emma has been struggling.”

I looked toward Danny’s room.

I thought about the nights I had worked twelve hours and returned home too tired to stand.

I thought about the times I had borrowed money to pay for Danny’s school expenses.

I thought about the old sofa I had repaired with tape because buying a new one wasn’t possible.

“Do you know what I have been struggling with, Dad?”

He didn’t answer.

“I have been raising your grandson in a one-bedroom rental. I have been working overtime. I have been paying for everything myself. I never asked you for a car, a house, or even money.”

“Lydia—”

“You didn’t even ask whether I needed the apartment.”

“We thought you would understand.”

“Understand what?”

“That Emma needed it more.”

I felt something inside me finally settle.

Not anger.

Not sadness.

Just clarity.

“Then you should have bought her one.”

He sighed loudly.

“You are being selfish.”

I looked down at the silver heart keychain still attached to my purse.

For some reason, I smiled.

“Funny. That’s what I was told my entire life whenever I wanted something for myself.”

“Lydia, listen to me. Margaret is emotional. She has just returned from a long trip, and she’s making decisions without thinking about the consequences.”

I turned toward my aunt.

She was sitting quietly at the kitchen island, listening.

“She seems to have thought more carefully than anyone else in this family.”

“Don’t talk about your aunt that way.”

I nearly laughed.

“You’re worried about how I speak about her?”

“She’s putting you against us.”

“No, Dad. She bought me an apartment. You put yourself against me when you decided to give it away.”

He went quiet.

Then he said something that made my stomach tighten.

“Linda is very upset. Emma is crying. Your sister may lose her place to live because of this.”

I stared at the phone.

There it was again.

Emma’s feelings.

Emma’s needs.

Emma’s future.

And somehow, I was supposed to be responsible for protecting all of them.

“What do you want me to do?” I asked.

“Let Emma stay there for a few more months. Until she finishes the semester. We can figure something out later.”

I looked at Margaret.

She shook her head slightly.

I took a deep breath.

“No.”

“Lydia, be reasonable.”

“No, Dad. You had two months to be reasonable. You chose to lie.”

“You’re going to destroy this family over an apartment?”

I looked around the beautiful home.

At the bedroom where my son had finally found his own space.

At the kitchen where I could prepare dinner without bumping into the sofa.

At the windows overlooking the city.

Then I answered.

“I’m not destroying anything. I’m simply refusing to keep pretending nothing happened.”

I ended the call.

My hands were shaking.

Margaret reached for my hand.

“That was brave.”

I shook my head.

“It didn’t feel brave.”

“Most important things don’t.”

The next morning, I woke up earlier than usual.

For a few seconds, I forgot where I was.

The bedroom was quiet. Sunlight filtered through the curtains. I could hear birds outside.

Then I remembered.

The apartment.

I sat up slowly and looked at the empty space beside the bed.

For years, Danny’s little bed had been beside mine.

Now he had his own room.

I walked down the hallway.

His bedroom door was slightly open.

He was already awake, sitting on the floor surrounded by dinosaurs.

“Good morning, sweetheart.”

He looked up.

“Mom, I slept in my own room all night!”

“I know.”

“Can I have breakfast in the kitchen?”

I smiled.

“Of course.”

He ran toward me.

“Can we make pancakes?”

I laughed.

“We can.”

While Danny ate breakfast, Margaret received a phone call from her attorney.

She stepped into the study to speak privately.

I didn’t intend to listen.

But when she returned, her expression had changed.

“What happened?” I asked.

“The lawyer reviewed the documents again. He wants to meet with us this morning.”

“Why?”

“Because there’s another document.”

My stomach tightened.

“What document?”

Margaret placed her phone on the counter.

“A property authorization form.”

I stared at her.

“What does it say?”

“It appears someone attempted to authorize a change in the apartment’s occupancy records.”

“Who signed it?”

“Your father’s name appears on the submission.”

I felt sick.

“Can he do that?”

CONTINUE FOR NEXT PART6…