Brandon looked like someone had unplugged his brain mid-download. Sierra’s lower lip trembled. Tracy’s face went through the stages of grief in record time.
She hung up.
Then she turned to me, eyes blazing.
She stepped right into my space, jabbing a manicured finger at my chest.
“Listen here, you ungrateful little—” she spat. I won’t repeat the word, but it wasn’t fit for embroidery on a pillow. “I don’t care whose name is on the deed. This is my house. I’ve lived here for twelve years. No spoiled brat is going to kick me out. I will make your life hell.”
Perfect.
Because I’d been recording that, too.
Reddit gets a lot of flak, but let me just say: r/legaladvice? Lifesaver.
I’d been lurking for months. Watching other people’s horror stories. Learning vocabulary. Saving posts. The day Tracy tried to charge me rent, I sat down that night and wrote my own:
“Stepmom demanding rent in house grandparents left me. She doesn’t know I own it. What are my rights?”
The response was a mix of “holy crap” and “get a lawyer yesterday.”
So I did.