Dad leaned toward him. “Because your sister agreed to help us with the purchase.”
“I did not.”
“You agreed verbally.”
“I did not.”
Marcus looked from one parent to the other. “You told me she had changed her mind. You told me she was giving me the place because she felt responsible for me.”
The words landed harder than I expected.
Dad turned to me. “You see? This is exactly why we wanted to speak with you privately. Marcus has been under tremendous pressure.”
“I’ve been under pressure,” Marcus said. “You told me I had to leave my apartment by the end of the month.”
“You were going to be homeless,” Mom whispered.
“I was not. I had a lease extension.”
Dad’s eyes flashed. “That extension was uncertain.”
“It was already approved.”
Silence spread across the table.
I looked at Marcus. “You knew?”
He shook his head quickly. “I knew the landlord had sent paperwork. I didn’t know it was approved until last week.”
“Then why did you keep saying you needed my home?”
His eyes filled, but he refused to look away. “Because they said you had offered it.”
“I never offered it.”
“I know that now.”
The answer came so quietly that it seemed to disappear beneath the restaurant noise.
Dad pushed the contract toward me. “This can still be handled without turning it into a family trial.”
I picked up the page and folded it once.
“No. It cannot.”
His expression changed. “Be careful.”
“I have been careful for six weeks.”
“You’re threatening your father over a clerical misunderstanding?”
“A forged signature is not a clerical misunderstanding.”
“It was not forged,” he snapped. “It was authorized.”
“By whom?”
He did not answer.
Mom began to cry without making a sound. Tears gathered along her lower lashes and dropped onto the white tablecloth. Marcus watched them fall with an expression so wounded that for a moment I almost felt sorry for her.
Then I remembered the calls.
The midnight messages. The relatives who had suddenly told me I was selfish. The family group chat where Dad had written that some people forgot where they came from once they had money. The photograph Mom had sent me of an empty bedroom, captioned, Your brother has nowhere to go.
They had not merely misunderstood me. They had built a story around my refusal and recruited everyone I loved to enforce it.
I opened the folder again and removed a small flash drive.
Dad recognized it.
His face went completely still.
“What is that?” Marcus asked.
“Security footage from my building. The night someone entered my apartment using a temporary access code.”
Dad’s hand moved toward the table, then stopped.
I had installed the camera after receiving an alert from the building’s security system. Someone had entered my penthouse while I was away visiting a client. Nothing obvious had been stolen. A drawer in my office had been left open, though I had locked it before leaving. At the time, I had assumed the building had made a mistake.
The footage showed Dad walking through my apartment.
He had been accompanied by a man I did not recognize, carrying a leather briefcase. Dad had pointed toward the living room windows, the second bedroom, and finally my office. The man had taken photographs of the rooms and measured the wall beside the entrance.
The date was four days before Dad announced Marcus was moving in.
Marcus watched the footage on my phone. His mouth opened slightly.
“Who is that?”
“The real estate attorney who prepared the contract.”
Dad stood so quickly his chair struck the wall behind him.
“Turn that off.”
The nearest tables began to notice us. A woman at the next table glanced over, then lowered her voice to her companion. The restaurant seemed suddenly brighter, every face exposed beneath the warm pendant lights.
Dad reached for my phone.
Marcus rose between us.
“Don’t.”
Dad stopped.
It was the first time all evening that Marcus had physically placed himself between Dad and me. His shoulders shook, but he held his ground.
Dad stared at him. “Move.”
“No.”
Mom whispered his name.
Marcus did not turn around. “You said she was going to sell it. You said the attorney was only checking the value. You said the deposit was yours because she had already agreed.”
Dad said nothing.
