I flipped through the papers slowly until my stomach turned cold. The deed carried an official-looking notary stamp and a signature that appeared identical to my trustee Andrew’s. Mom and Brooke watched me carefully, expecting an argument. Instead, I folded the papers and quietly said, “I’ll be gone by Friday.” Mom actually smiled. The moment they drove away, I locked the door and called Andrew. “Don’t touch anything,” he told me. “I’m coming over.”

Two days later, a moving truck rumbled up my street. Brooke climbed out wearing sunglasses and a victorious smile, followed by Mom, Dad, and three movers. “Start with the woodwork,” Mom ordered as everyone marched toward my porch. But before anyone could knock, the front door opened. Andrew stood there holding a thick folder. Two uniformed police officers were beside him. Brooke stopped walking. Andrew calmly looked at my family and said, “Before anyone removes a single box, there’s something you need to hear.”

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