Paige remained near the damaged office door.
Her children, ten-year-old Tyler and his younger sister Emma, clung to their backpacks.
Neither understood why the adults were arguing.
I felt sorry for them.
They hadn’t chosen this situation.
Their mother and grandparents had brought them into it.
The agent explained that the property was legally mine and that the intrusion, damage, and attempted access to restricted materials were being documented.
My mother shook her head.
“This is ridiculous. Marissa is my daughter.”
“Yes,” I said through the apartment speakers. “And you still broke into my home.”
Everyone turned toward the nearest camera.
“Marissa?” Paige whispered.
“Hello, Paige.”
My mother moved forward.
“You’re making a family matter into something much bigger!”
“No, Mom. You did that when you decided my refusal didn’t matter.”
My parents had treated me as their emergency fund for years.
Whenever Paige needed money, I was expected to provide it.
