“When I bought a $950,000 house,” I continued, “did you ever say you were proud? Or did you immediately calculate how much easier and more luxurious your lives could become?”
His jaw clenched. He opened his mouth to protest, but no words came out that didn’t sound like the truth.
I sat back, straightening the collar of my coat.
“I’ve stopped paying the loans,” I said calmly. “Your cars will be repossessed as early as tomorrow.”
My father’s face went slack with shock.
“I will never be your safety net again,” I added. “Not after what you chose to do.”
His hand slammed against the acrylic again. “Wait—Denise!”
My mother sobbed on the other side of her screen, mouthing my name like it was a prayer.
But I stood up.
I wasn’t there to offer forgiveness. I wasn’t there to soothe their fear of consequences. I was there to deliver an ultimatum and make sure it was heard.
“I’m done,” I said, and then I turned away.
My father’s shouting followed me out, muffled and useless. My mother’s crying became a distant echo. The door closed behind me with the clean finality of a line drawn.