At 9:07 the following morning, the closing completed.
At 9:14, the money arrived.
After fees, adjustments, and expenses, the amount hitting my account was more than half a million dollars.
I stared at the balance.
Then I closed the app.
Oddly, the money was not the satisfying part.
The satisfying part was knowing that next month, for the first time in five years, I would not receive a property-tax bill for a mansion where everyone lived comfortably except the woman paying for it.
At 4:38 that afternoon, my mother landed.
I knew because she somehow managed to contact me from a number I had not blocked.
The first message was almost cheerful.
We’re back. You need to pick us up. Derek has too many bags for an Uber.
I deleted it.
At 5:26:
Why aren’t you answering?
At 5:41:
This childish behavior has gone far enough.
At 6:03:
The garage code isn’t working.
