My son sent me a message: “Mom, I know you just bought us the house, but Sarah’s dad says you can’t come to Thanksgiving.” I stared at the screen, thought about the $350,000 I had spent to give him a home, and typed one word back: “Okay.” That night, I stopped being everybody’s wallet and started being the woman who was about to take everything back—starting with the house they thought was already theirs.

“You’re talking about section 25-211. Gross ingratitude. Someone who gives a gift can take it back if the person getting it acts in a way that would make them lose an inheritance. It’s rarely used, but when it is…”

She pointed at my papers.

“Cases like this. Big gift followed immediately by rejection or meanness. That qualifies. Perfect example.”

She pulled a law book from her shelf, slid it across the desk with one finger marking the page.

“The precedent is clear. The 30-day window gives you legal standing. With this documentation”—she pointed at the text message—”we file today.”

I signed the papers to take back the house with the same pen I’d used three days earlier for the original papers. Different paperwork, same blue ink. The irony registered somewhere in my brain, but I didn’t say anything. Just signed my name and pushed the papers back.

“I want everything written down,” I said. “I might need more help from you soon.”

Linda’s face didn’t change.

“Understood.”

Amanda Cooper, the notary who’d done the original house papers, filed the cancellation with the county that afternoon. By morning, a certified letter was going to Danny’s work.