“It doesn’t matter.
It’s their house.”
That answered me.
My sister had been inside our rooms.
I remembered a Sunday earlier that month when Bella had visited while Grace and I were at a school recital.
My mother later mentioned that Bella had helped her organize Christmas decorations.
Apparently, she had also walked through our bedrooms with a camera.
Grace came into the kitchen carrying a stuffed rabbit.
I lowered the volume and motioned for her to sit beside me.
“The advertisement proves your clients intended to replace Jessica with a higher-paying tenant before giving her notice,” Naomi said.
“It also proves the renovations increased the rental value of the property.”
My father’s anger sharpened.
“Those renovations belong to us.
They’re attached to our house.”
“Then you should read the improvement addendum you signed.”
I opened the scanned document Naomi had sent.
The addendum listed every approved project: the egress window, waterproof flooring, bathroom fixtures, electrical work, insulation, and the small kitchenette.
I had paid $11,400 because my father said they could not afford the work.
In return, the agreement reduced the cost over the twelve-month lease term.
Then I reached the clause at the bottom.
If the landlords terminated the lease early without documented cause, they were required to reimburse the tenant for the unamortized improvement balance within ten business days.
Beside the clause was my father’s signature.
The remaining balance was $7,600.
My mother gasped when Naomi read the number aloud.
“We don’t have that kind of money sitting around,” she said.
“Then you should not have terminated the agreement,” Naomi replied.
My father began talking over her.
He accused me of damaging the family, manipulating a technicality, and abandoning responsibilities I had supposedly agreed to carry.
He said the mortgage payment had already been withdrawn and that my canceled transfer left their checking account overdrawn.
That was the moment something inside me became completely still.
For eight months, I had believed my parents tolerated my presence because they felt sorry for me.
Bella had repeated that story so often that even I had begun to accept it.
But they had depended on my money.
My rent covered the monthly payment on the home-equity loan.
My utility contributions lowered their expenses.
My renovations increased their property value.
And while they called me a burden, they had built their budget around me.
“What was the loan for?” I asked.
My father stopped speaking.
My mother said, “That is private.”
Bella answered for them.
“They helped me expand the boutique.
So what? At least I’m building something.”
The words landed with such force that even Naomi went silent for a beat.
My parents had borrowed against their house to give Bella money.
Then they had used my lease to qualify for the loan and my rent to make the payments.
I was not being enabled.
I was subsidizing my sister.
Bella continued, apparently unable to hear the damage she was doing.
“The new tenant was willing to pay more.
Mom and Dad need the income.
You should be grateful they let you stay as long as they did.”
“You listed our rooms before telling us to leave,” I said.
“Because you would have made a scene.”
I looked at Grace.
She was stroking one ear of her rabbit, pretending not
