I turned on her.
“Your house or Megan’s? Hard to tell these days.”
Megan set her glass down, smirking.
“You think a few legal papers make you untouchable. Courts can be persuaded. Judges can be convinced. And you, with your military schedule, you don’t have the time or stability to fight this battle.”
“Oh.” I leaned across the table. “Try me.”
For a moment, the mask slipped. Megan’s smirk faltered, her eyes flashing with anger. Then she straightened, smooth again.
“This attitude won’t end well for you.”
“Neither will underestimating me,” I said.
The tension snapped like a wire pulled too tight. Mom rose abruptly.
“Enough. I won’t watch my daughters destroy each other.”
“Then stop picking sides,” I said, locking eyes with her, but her silence was answer enough.
I grabbed my jacket and walked out. The cold air outside felt cleaner than the stifling room I’d just left. On the drive back, my thoughts spiraled. Megan was escalating, snooping, appraising, threatening, and Mom was her shield. It was two against one, and I was done playing defense.