I looked down at it.
Then something unexpected happened.
I remembered Sunday.
Two days earlier.
The day everything changed.
I had arrived at my parents’ house early for dinner.
Nobody heard me come inside.
I was still standing in the hallway when I heard Mom speaking in the kitchen.
“She won’t fight me.”
Chloe laughed.
“What if she does?”
“Grace?”
Mom sounded amused.
“Grace will do what I tell her. She always does.”
Dad’s voice came next.
Quiet.
“Linda, it’s her apartment.”
“She’ll get over it.”
I remained completely still.
Chloe said, “That brick wall is going to look insane on camera.”
Mom laughed.
Then she said something else.
Something they probably believed I would never hear.
“Once Chloe is officially living there, we can use the address for the paperwork.”
I frowned.
“What paperwork?” Chloe asked.
Mom lowered her voice.
I couldn’t hear everything.
Only pieces. Application. Income. Grace’s credit. Business.
I left before dinner.
I drove home without crying.
That night, the good daughter inside me finally stopped volunteering to sacrifice everything for everyone else.
I opened my filing cabinet.
Read my lease from beginning to end.
And discovered Clause 22.
No tenant transfer could happen without my signed, notarized consent.
At eight the following morning, I walked into Mr. Henderson’s rental office.
He looked surprised.
“Grace?”
“Did my mother call you?”
His expression shifted immediately.
