Chapter 5
Abigail reached for the banister as if the staircase could hold her upright.
“What papers?”
Austin shook his head too quickly.
“It’s old. She’s twisting it.”
Summer almost smiled.
There was the family reflex.
Twisting.
Dramatic.
Unstable.
Bitter.
Words people reach for when facts begin standing up.
Sheila looked from Austin to Summer.
“You told me this was settled.”
Summer’s gaze sharpened.
Settled.
Not false.
Not impossible.
Settled.
Interesting.
Austin turned toward Sheila.
“It is.”
Summer lifted the phone.
“Then you won’t mind listening.”
Austin took a step forward.
Summer did not retreat.
She only raised her thumb above the screen.
“One more step and I send it.”
He stopped.
Sheila’s eyes widened.
“To who?”
Summer looked at each person in the hallway.
“To people who still know how to read dates.”
Lawrence stood slowly from the armchair.
His irritation had finally become concern.
“You come into this house threatening your family?”
Summer’s laugh was quiet.
“This house was my family before it became evidence.”
The word evidence landed heavily.
Abigail covered her mouth.
Austin’s face tightened.
Sheila looked at him again.
“What did she mean by papers?”
Austin snapped, “Nothing.”
The sharpness made Sheila recoil.
For the first time, Summer saw a crack in Sheila’s certainty.
Sheila might be cruel.
She might be possessive.
She might have enjoyed humiliating a woman fresh out of prison.
But she clearly had not been told the whole story.
Summer looked at her.
“What did Austin tell you about me?”
Sheila lifted her chin.
“That you stole from your employer. That you went away. That you gave up any claim here.”
Austin’s hand moved slightly.
Summer saw it.
“Gave up?”
Sheila’s confidence returned in fragments.
“Yes. He said you signed everything before sentencing.”
Summer looked at Abigail.
Her mother’s tears spilled over.
Lawrence looked toward the floor.
Austin went rigid.
There it was.
A family memory no one had planned to discuss in front of Sheila.
Summer stepped toward the scattered belongings near her old doorway and picked up the cracked photo frame.
Inside was a picture of her and Austin at sixteen and fourteen, standing in front of the same staircase, both smiling like the house belonged to childhood.
She held it up.
“I signed legal paperwork before sentencing because Mom cried and said it was temporary.”
Abigail whispered, “I thought it was.”
Summer looked at Austin.
May you like
“So did I.”
Read Chapter 6 👉 Because Sheila thought Summer gave up the house freely, but Abigail’s face proved the signature had been taken under a different story.
