I pulled my phone from my pocket and swiped through the photos. “These are from last year,” I said, stepping forward so he could see. “When I came up to meet with the contractors about the roof.” I swiped. “The year before that, when I hired the local painter to fix the shutters. The one before that—new septic system inspection. Every year, Dad. The trust has been covering maintenance and taxes since Mom died. I’ve been coordinating everything with Margaret.”
I turned my gaze to Victoria. “That’s why you never managed to switch the utilities into your name, isn’t it? You never had the authority.”
Something like panic flashed across her face, quickly masked by anger.
“You think you’re clever,” she hissed. “You think hiding behind legal technicalities makes you better than us. This house should have been ours. James and I are the ones who made this a real family.”
I laughed. I couldn’t help it. The sound surprised even me. It wasn’t hysterical; it was quiet and exhausted and edged with something sharp.