My mother’s face changed first. Not into guilt. Into calculation. My father’s expression hardened into the particular stillness of a man preparing procedural language. Marcus looked from me to our parents as if trying to understand which reality he had accidentally entered. Olivia’s mouth actually fell open.
“I learned about it this week,” I continued. “From Hampton & Associates. I also learned that you”—I looked directly at my parents—“have known about it for twenty-five years.”
My mother recovered first, which was unsurprising.
“Victoria,” she said in the voice she used when I was a child and had misunderstood something inconvenient, “you don’t understand the complexity of these financial arrangements.”
I almost admired the instinct.
Even now, with paper on the table, she went first to fog.
“I understand perfectly,” I said.
Then I placed the annual statements on the table one by one.