Then I typed:
“I heard everything during Christmas Eve dinner.”
All four typing indicators appeared immediately.
I kept going before anyone could respond.
“I heard Mom tell Chloe she could have my three-bedroom apartment for free.”
“I heard Dad say I was obligated to give it up because you raised me.”
“I heard Chloe say she had already announced the move on Instagram.”
“And I heard Flynn ask if I had been informed yet.”
All four typing indicators disappeared.
Silence.
Then I added:
“The only thing I never heard was anyone bothering to ask for my permission.”
Mom responded first.
“We were going to talk to you!”
I wrote back:
“No, Mom.
You were going to inform me.”
Dad jumped in.
“Don’t exaggerate, Jessi.
We were simply trying to help your sister get on her feet.”
“Then help her with your own real estate, Dad.”
Chloe typed:
“I thought Mom had already cleared it with you!”
A wave of exhaustion washed over me.
“Chloe, when you asked if I had agreed, Mom explicitly said she hadn’t told me yet.
You were sitting right at the table.”
She had nothing to say to that.
Flynn did.
“The toddlers shouldn’t suffer for this!”
“Correct, Flynn.
Which is why their father should provide a roof over their heads.”
Mom wrote:
“You have always been so cold and heartless.”
I stared at the message for a second.
Then replied:
“I am not cold for refusing to hand over $640,000 of my life’s work.”
Dad called.
I declined.
He called again.
I declined again.
Then Mom texted:
“Where are you right now?!”
“On the highway to Chicago.”
