Not a polite knock.
A controlled one.
My mother’s voice followed.
“
Daniel. Open the door.”
Emma stiffened.
I slid the envelope inside my jacket and crossed the room.
When I opened the door, Margaret stood in the hallway with Jennifer behind her and Michael leaning against the wall, his earlier confidence replaced by irritation.
Paul hovered farther back, pretending to check his phone.
My mother looked past me toward Emma.
“We need to clear the air,” she said.
“No,” I replied. “You need to wait downstairs.”
Michael scoffed. “This is ridiculous. You show up after five years and suddenly act like we’re criminals because Emma had to help with dishes?”
Emma’s face went pale.
I stepped into the hallway and closed the door behind me.
Something changed in Michael’s expression then. He had expected me to argue in front of Emma. He had expected confusion, noise, maybe even embarrassment.
