“They practically do.”
“No,” I said. “They do not.”
Julian turned to my father.
“Is your name on the deed?”
My father did not answer.
“Is Harper’s?” Julian asked.
Again, there was no answer.
His gaze moved toward the Audi, then back to the house.
For the first time that morning, he looked less like a wealthy man claiming a private office and more like a man realizing his wife had invited him into a conflict built on a lie.
That realization did not make him innocent.
He had heard them order a pregnant widow into a garage and laughed when my mother reminded me not to block his car.
But it changed the shape of the confrontation.
Harper had promised him authority she did not possess because she had been certain I would never challenge her in front of him.
“I’m leaving,” Julian said.
Harper stared at him.
“What?”
“I’m not moving my business into a house you don’t own.”
“You were excited about it ten minutes ago.”
“I was told it had been offered.”
“You heard her say okay.”
“I heard her say it after you told her to sleep in a garage.”
