My father stood abruptly.
“You can’t do this to us! That’s our family!”
The judge’s expression hardened.
“Your family relationship does not give you ownership of another person’s home.”
A deputy approached him.
For the first time in my life, my father looked at someone who wasn’t afraid of him.
He looked at someone who didn’t care how loudly he spoke.
His attorney pulled him back into his seat.
My mother began to cry.
Not quietly, either.
She sobbed into a tissue, shaking her head as though she were the victim of something terrible.
When she noticed me watching, she reached for my hand.
“Claire, sweetheart. Please. Tell them we were only trying to help Melanie.”
I moved my hand away.
“You brought a deed to my house and told me to sign it. Dad hit me when I refused. Then you used my stolen signature to file a fraudulent transfer.”
