“I need your help,” I said. “It’s urgent. Can you come see me first thing tomorrow?”
There was a pause.
“Aunt B, what’s wrong? Your voice sounds strange.”
“For the first time in three years, I think I’m finally clear. But I need legal help with my house.”
“Your house?”
“Yes. That’s the problem.”
I told her everything in fifteen minutes. The down payment. The deed. The monthly payments. The humiliation. The text about the leftovers.
When I finished, Megan let out a long breath.
“Aunt B, are you telling me that house is legally in your name, and they don’t even realize it?”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”
“And you have proof of the money? Every receipt? Every transfer?”
“Yes.”
I could hear her typing.
“This is gold,” she said. “You have a rock-solid case.”
“What can I do?”
“Whatever you want. Eviction. Rent claims. Sale. Occupancy action. Right now, legally speaking, they are living in your property.”
A smile spread across my face then, but it was not a happy smile. It was the smile of someone finally touching the edge of justice.
“I’ll be at your office at eight in the morning.”
“Bring everything.”