Colin came downstairs wearing his bathrobe and accepted a manila envelope delivered by certified mail.
A minute later, he entered the kitchen and tore it open with his fingers.
“A&M Property Holdings…” he muttered.
He frowned as he started reading.
Then he froze.
“What on earth is this?”
Jessica appeared at the top of the stairs.
I continued sipping my coffee.
Colin read the first page again, more slowly this time, as though the words might somehow change if he gave them another chance. The letter notified him that his month-to-month lease would end in thirty days and that the house was being placed on the market.
Jessica snatched the document from his hands. “This can’t be legal,” she said. “The property only changed hands a few months ago.”
I placed my teacup onto its saucer and watched them scramble for an explanation that didn’t include me.
Then Colin pulled a second sheet of paper from the envelope. It was a letter in my own handwriting.
He started reading it aloud but stopped after the third line. “‘A&M stands for Arthur and Margaret.’”
The color disappeared from his face. Jessica looked at me first, then back at the paper. Richard had purchased the property in my name through the holding company I had established months earlier, shortly after the previous landlord decided to sell. Colin had been paying rent to an entity that ultimately belonged to me.
“Mom… do you own this house?” he asked.
“For now, yes,” I replied. “And I no longer wish to be your landlord—or your burden.”
Jessica dropped the envelope onto the kitchen island. “You did all of this behind our backs?” she demanded, her voice rising.
“Yes,” I said calmly. “Just like the two of you toured a retirement facility, picked out a room, and set the exact date I was supposed to vanish from here.”
Colin tried to speak. “It wasn’t like that—”
“It was exactly like that,” I answered. “You just had the courtesy to give me a few weeks’ notice.”
He lowered his eyes.
I reached into my handbag and took out a small clear protective sleeve. Inside was the scratch-off ticket from my birthday, fully validated and officially processed.
Jessica recognized it immediately. “That’s impossible.”
“It’s very possible,” I said.
