Chapter 6 - MY MOTHER'S VERSIONI entered the house.
Mom locked the door behind me.
Dad was sitting in the living room.
Ryan stood near the fireplace.
Brooke was crying.
Apparently I had walked into a family summit where I was the only person who hadn't received an invitation.
“How nice,” I said. “Everyone's here.”
Ryan folded his arms.
“You hired a lawyer against Mom.”
“She forged my signature.”
“She was trying to help me.”
“Thank you for confirming you knew.”
His face shifted.
Mom snapped, “Stop talking.”
I looked at her.
“No. Actually, I think everyone should talk.”
She gestured toward a chair.
“Sit.”
“I'll stand.”
“This is exactly what you do, Savannah. You walk in convinced you're the smartest person in the room.”
“I usually walk in knowing whose name is on the deed.”
That landed.
Brooke frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Mom shot her a look.
I almost smiled.
“You didn't tell them?”
“Savannah.”
I turned to Brooke.
“The house belongs to me.”
She blinked.
“What?”
Ryan laughed.
“No, it doesn't.”
“Yes.”
“Dad owns this house.”
Dad stared at the floor.
Ryan looked at him.
“Dad?”
Silence.
Brooke's mouth fell open.
Mom's voice became sharp.
“That is irrelevant.”
“Interesting word.”
I removed copies of the loan documents from my bag.
“Because someone borrowed against my irrelevant ownership using a forged signature.”
Ryan turned pale.
Mom said nothing.
I continued.
“And some of that money went to you.”
I looked at Ryan.
“Some went to Brooke's wedding.”
Brooke gasped.
“I didn't know.”
“I believe you.”
Mom stepped forward.
“Enough.”
“No.”
“You came here to humiliate me.”
“I came here because you spent thirty years humiliating me whenever it helped you keep control.”
Her face hardened.
“Rebecca has poisoned you.”
“I met her for two hours.”
“She is a liar.”
“She has letters.”
Mom froze.
Dad looked up.
“What letters?”
“The ones you wrote promising to give me back.”
Dad went white.
Mom spun toward him.
“You wrote to her?”
“Diane—”
“You told me you never contacted her again.”
I stared at both of them.
Even now, new lies were detonating.
Mom's control slipped.
“She was unstable.”
“Rebecca?”
“Yes.”
“She wanted money.”
“She kept every clipping about me for thirty years.”
“Obsession proves nothing.”
“She didn't take your money.”
“That woman—”
“Stop calling her that woman.”
The room went silent.
I stepped closer.
“What happened to your baby?”
Mom's face changed.
Brooke looked confused.
“Mom had another baby?”
Mom sat down.
Slowly.
“She was mine.”
Her voice was suddenly small.
“Savannah was mine.”
I understood.
The dead daughter.
The name she had given me.
“I wasn't her replacement.”
Mom flinched.
“I never said you were.”
“You changed my name to hers.”
“I was grieving.”
“You changed my birthday.”
“We had to create consistency.”
“You stole me.”
“No!”
The scream echoed through the room.
Brooke started crying harder.
Mom stood again.
“I saved you.”
“From what?”
“Poverty. Chaos. A mother who couldn't even keep electricity on.”
“She asked for six months.”
“You had a bedroom. Health insurance. Schools. Family.”
“I had a mother who called me a mistake.”
Mom's face crumpled.
For one second, I saw regret.
Then pride returned.
“I gave you everything.”
“No.”
I pointed around the room.
“You gave me things.”
“That is what parents do.”
“Parents don't make children pay for being loved.”
Ryan scoffed.
“Here we go with the victim routine.”
I looked at him.
“Seventy thousand dollars.”
He shut up.
“That's how much you received from the fraudulent loan.”
His jaw tightened.
“You have millions.”
There it was.
Not denial.
Entitlement.
“So stealing is acceptable if the victim can afford it?”
“I was going to pay it back.”
“With your failed restaurant?”
“I would've figured it out.”
“You're thirty-four, Ryan. Mom has been figuring things out for you your entire life.”
He stepped toward me.
Dad stood.
“Enough.”
Ryan ignored him.
“You've always thought you're better than us.”
“I spent half my adult life keeping you out of bankruptcy.”
“And reminding everyone.”
“I never mentioned it.”
“You didn't have to. You love playing martyr.”
Something inside me almost snapped.
Then I remembered Rebecca's boxes.
Thirty years of waiting.
I became calm.
“Fine.”
Ryan frowned.
“What?”
“You don't need my help anymore.”
“I never asked for it.”
I looked at Mom.
“Did he?”
She said nothing.
Then Brooke whispered:
“Mom did.”
Ryan shot her a furious look.
Brooke wiped her eyes.
“Every time, Ryan. Mom called Savannah.”
I looked at my sister.
She continued.
“The restaurant. Your DUI lawyer. The tax problem. She called Savannah.”
Ryan stared at her.
“Shut up.”
“No.”
Brooke looked at me.
“And my wedding.”
Her voice cracked.
“She told me Dad paid.”
I nodded.
“He didn't.”
She covered her mouth.
“I didn't know.”
“I believe you.”
Mom stood.
“You see what you're doing? Turning brother against sister.”
“No, Mom. I'm just turning the lights on.”
I pulled one final paper from the folder.
A formal notice.
Mom stared at it.
“What is that?”
“You have sixty days.”
“For what?”
“To leave.”
Dad stood.
Brooke gasped.
Ryan swore.
Mom laughed.
At first, she genuinely laughed.
“You cannot evict your parents.”
“I can terminate permission for adults to occupy property I own.”
“You wouldn't.”
“I am.”
Her face drained.
“This is my home.”
“No.”
I said it gently.
“That is the problem. You forgot it never was.”
She stepped toward me.
“You ungrateful little—”
Dad caught her arm.
“Diane.”
She ripped away.
“You'll regret this.”
“Maybe.”
“You'll destroy this family.”
I looked at all of them.
“The family was destroyed before I knew there was damage.”
Then I walked toward the door.
Mom called after me.
“You want Rebecca?”
I stopped.
“Take her.”
Her voice cracked with hatred and grief.
“But when she leaves you again, don't come crawling back to me.”
I turned.
“I spent thirty years crawling back to you.”
I opened the door.
“That part of my life is over.”
Outside, thunder rolled across the sky.
I thought the confrontation was finished.
Then my phone buzzed.
May you like
A message from Daniel.
We found out why Ethan created Hartwell Consulting. Call me immediately. Do not confront Ethan alone.
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