I stared at him. The man who kicked me out was now asking me to save their house. My first instinct was to laugh in his face. But then I thought about it. I’d been looking to buy a house, and this was a smart investment. The property values had skyrocketed.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll do it.”

Two months later, it was official. I owned the house I grew up in. Mom and Emma never knew.

A couple of months after that, Dad invited me to a family dinner. It was just as awkward as I’d expected. Dad was happy to see me, Mom was politely cold, and Emma spent the entire meal bragging about her recent trip to Europe, her new Mercedes, and the designer bag that probably cost three grand—all paid for with the money I’d given Dad for the house. I just smiled and ate my dinner.