We tore through boxes until we found it. A personal loan agreement from First National Bank in my name. And beneath it, another document. A promissory note Brandon had signed, acknowledging the loan and promising to repay me once he finished his residency and got a job. Maggie held up the paper, her eyes gleaming.
«He forgot about this, didn’t he?»
«I think so. That was four years ago. Once he got his hospital job, he never mentioned it.»
«Because he forgot. But legally, this document is gold, Grace. This proves direct financial investment in his education. This changes everything.»
Over the next week, Maggie built our case like she was constructing a building. Piece by piece. The loan documents.
My bank statements showing I paid 100% of our living expenses for six years, while Brandon contributed nothing. Testimony from our old landlords and neighbours who remembered me working constantly. Text messages from years ago where Brandon thanked me for my sacrifices and promised to make it right.