So on Monday afternoon, while my family continued calling me every twenty minutes, Nathan had a formal notice delivered.
My mother accepted the envelope.
My sister apparently filmed the process on her phone.
At 3:17 p.m., I received a video from Tessa.
She was standing in the living room.
My living room, technically.
Behind her was the fireplace I had replaced two years earlier after Dad decided to clean the chimney himself and nearly burned the place down.
Tessa’s eyes were swollen.
Not from crying.
From rage.
“You think you can scare us with paperwork?” she said into the camera. “You think money makes you powerful? Mom and Dad raised you. They sacrificed everything for you. And this is how you repay them? You’re disgusting.”
The video lasted eighty-four seconds.
In it, she mentioned Clare exactly once.
“Your wife is controlling you.”
Of course.
I showed Clare.
She shook her head.
