The table went silent. Vanessa’s smile froze, and my father let go of my shoulder as if it had burned him. “What do you mean, the deed?” he asked. I reached into my bag and placed a navy folder beside the keys. “Open it,” I said gently. My mother’s hands trembled as she turned the first page, and the color drained from her face. Then the doorbell rang, and nobody dared move.

I stood and opened the door myself. A woman in a gray blazer held a leather briefcase. “Ms. Elena Marsh?” she asked, loudly enough for the dining room to hear. “I have the final documents for the sale.” Behind me, a chair scraped hard against the floor. Vanessa whispered, “Sale of what?” I looked back at my family and answered, “Of the house you are all sitting in.”