And no amount of logic would change that. Logic didn’t survive greed. Emotion didn’t survive entitlement. Everything would be filtered until it became the same story: Denise is cold, Denise is ungrateful, Denise is selfish.
My anger cooled into clarity, and clarity is dangerous.
“Fine,” I said quietly.
Kristen blinked, thrown off by my sudden lack of resistance. My father’s mouth curved in satisfaction, as if he could already see the guest room contract being drafted, my signature forced onto it by social pressure.
“You said you called a lawyer, Dad,” I continued. “Then let’s discuss this thoroughly with a third party present.”
My father’s eyes gleamed, pleased. “You should have said that from the start.”
He pulled his phone out again, tapping quickly. “I’ve already called my friend—attorney Morris. He specializes in real estate disputes. He’ll give you a proper lecture on how legally meaningless your possessiveness really is.”
Morris.