“The party is cancelled. The lawyer is coming,” my father said on my birthday. It was all because I refused to let my sister live in my $1.5 million vacation home. I just nodded, holding back my laughter. Behind the lawyer came the police I had called.

That only seemed to irritate him more. I walked into the kitchen, poured myself a glass of sparkling water, and took a slow sip as Kristin drifted closer again, completely unfazed.

“There are three guest rooms here,” she said, glancing around as if mentally redecorating. “The master closet would be perfect for my clothes.”

She smiled, almost kindly. “You work all the time anyway, so you wouldn’t need much space.”

I turned to face her fully. “I’m not giving you anything,” I said quietly.

My mother stepped closer, reaching for my arm, but I moved away before she could touch me.

“Don’t be difficult,” she said softly. “Having Kristin here would make this house feel like a home.”

I let out a short breath. “Using someone else’s work to make your life easier isn’t love,” I replied. “It’s exploitation.”

That finally silenced the room. My mother lowered her voice. “Everyone is watching. Let’s talk somewhere private.”

I nodded once and followed her into the hallway, but something felt off the moment we stepped away from the crowd. The scent of Kristin’s perfume was stronger upstairs, not faint and passing, but settled, as if it had been there for a while.