W środku nie byli tylko mama, tata i Melody.
Ciociu Patricia. Wujku Ronnie. Babcia Ellen. Kuzynów, których nie widziałem od lat.
Stół jadalny był nakryty dla dwunastu osób.
To nie była świąteczna kolacja.
To była zasadzka.
Melody wstała pierwsza, z założonymi rękami.
"Wszyscy wiemy, po co tu jesteśmy," powiedziała, głosem wyćwiczonym.
Tata skinął głową, twarz miał zaciśniętą jak kamień. "Sienna, usiądź. Musimy porozmawiać jako rodzina."
“I’m not sitting,” I said.
Dad’s mouth tightened. “Your sister needs this house. This family needs you to step up.”
Aunt Patricia leaned forward, eyes sharp. “You’ve always been the selfish one. This is your chance to prove us wrong.”
Everyone stared, waiting.
The pressure in the room felt physical—like humidity before a storm.
“I didn’t sign anything,” I said.
My voice came out steadier than I felt.
Melody’s eyes narrowed. “You said you would help.”
“When?” I asked. “Give me a date.”
“Christmas two years ago,” she snapped. “At dinner. You promised.”
“I said I’d think about it.”
“You nodded,” Melody insisted. “We all saw you nod.”
“A nod isn’t a contract.”
“It is in this family,” Aunt Patricia said like she was pronouncing law.
“Then this family has a very loose definition of consent,” I replied.
Uncle Ronnie muttered about ungrateful kids. Grandma Ellen dabbed her eyes. Mom started crying—soft, practiced tears designed to make me the villain.
Dad stood up, chair scraping hard.
The whole room fell silent.
“Then you leave us no choice,” he said.
“No choice about what?” I asked, though I already knew.
“We’re giving you until December 15th,” Dad said. “Either you agree to pay the mortgage or we sue you.”
The words hung in the air.
Sued.
By my own parents.
“For what?” I asked.
“Breach of verbal agreement,” Dad said. “Melody will testify. We’ll prove you promised.”
I looked at my sister.
She wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“You’d lie under oath?” I asked her.
“It’s not lying if I remember it that way,” she said, voice brittle.
Mom grabbed my hands. Her touch felt desperate. Sticky.
“Sienna, please. We’re your parents. How can you do this to us?”
“You committed fraud,” I said. “And you’re asking what I’m doing to you?”
“It’s family money,” Dad snapped. “It’s not stealing when it’s family.”
I pulled my hands free, gathered my coat.
“I’ll see you in court,” I said.
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