“Appreciation that disappears the second I become inconvenient is not appreciation.”
He stared at the coffee he had not touched.
“We can’t carry all of this without your help,” he said. “Not right away. The house, the loans, Toby’s stuff, everything is connected.”
“I know it is. I connected it.”
He looked up sharply.
That landed. Good.
“I am not paying for your house anymore,” I said. “I am not paying for Marissa’s image, Toby’s bad habits, or the life you built on the assumption that I would keep absorbing the strain.”
He went pale.
“Then what are we supposed to do?”
I gave the answer I should have given years ago.
“Figure it out.”
His face hardened with anger.
“You can’t do this after everything we’ve been through as a family.”
I stood up.
“What exactly have you done for me, Garrett?”
He stared.
“No,” I said. “Really. Name one thing. One thing in the last year you did for me that was not prompted by guilt, obligation, or the hope I’d write a check.”
His mouth moved. Nothing came out.
I waited.
He looked away first.
That was the moment that broke my heart, not the text. A son failing to defend himself against a question that simple.
“You see?” I said gently. “That is the whole problem.”