Ashamed, believing they had ruined my life, my parents said nothing to me. They packed photographs and clothes and left when the court order arrived. Trevor gave them cash and promises.
Two months passed in silence. When my father finished speaking, the room felt heavier than the storm outside. I waited until they slept. Then I drove.
Trevor lived in the same house I had purchased for my parents. The lights were on. Music played softly. He opened the door wearing comfort like a costume.
“Matthew. What brings you here.”
I walked past him without permission. The furniture was different. The warmth was gone.
“I saw our parents in the rain,” I said quietly.
His face shifted, then hardened. “They exaggerate.”
I told him everything I knew. I spoke without shouting. That frightened him more.
“They never deserved it,” he snapped at last. “You were always the hero. I was invisible. This was balance.”
I looked at him and saw nothing familiar. “You have one day,” I said. “Return the money. Reverse the transfer. Or you answer to the law.”