When I Moved Into My First House, I Came Home One Night To Find My Parents Sitting In The Living Room. When I Asked Why, My Mom Smiled And Said: “We’ll Treat It Like A Family Place Now.” I Didn’t Argue.

The one who’d once told me, You’re lucky. Ethan has a soft spot for lost causes. And now she was Natalie’s new mentor.

Of course. The universe loved irony. “Anyway,” Mom continued, oblivious.

“Meline thinks Natalie has a natural gift for real estate.”

“I bet she does,” I said dryly. “She’s been selling lies for years.”

Mom frowned. “That’s not fair.”

I shrugged, heading to the kitchen counter.

The folder with trust documents still sat there—thick, sealed, waiting. The calm part of me smiled. The lawyer in me—because that’s who I felt like these days—was counting hours, not words.

Dad called out, “We made coffee.”

He poured it into one of my mugs, the one that said, “Ask me about boundaries.”

He didn’t notice the irony. I didn’t answer. Instead, I grabbed my keys and went out front.

That’s when I saw her. Natalie pulling into the driveway in an Uber. Sunglasses on, phone glued to her hand, a pink suitcase rolling behind her like a stage prop.

“Finally,” she said, stepping out. “I had to Uber here. Why isn’t the family car in the driveway?”

I tilted my head.

“You mean the silver one?”

She nodded impatiently. “The one parked illegally all week. It was towed this morning.”

Her jaw dropped.

“You’re joking.”

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