My stepmother called me at the end of the day, her voice so smug I could practically hear the smile on her lips, and told me that from now on I would never be allowed to set foot in the family beach house again because she had already changed every lock.

“I am just here to pick up some furniture from Facebook Marketplace,” he said. I realized then that Victoria was trying to sell my things online.

I took a photo of the listing on his phone and told him to leave. By three in the morning, I was giving another statement to the police.

“She is making this very easy for us,” the officer said. By eight the next morning, Lydia had filed for more protective orders.

I drove to the storage unit and found the rest of my mother’s things. I found the Christmas ornaments and the photo albums that Victoria wanted to replace.

I sat on the concrete floor and cried because I had proof of the erasure she had planned. The court hearing was held three days later and Lydia dismantled every lie they told.

The judge looked at the evidence and granted me exclusive possession of the home. Victoria and Harrison left the courtroom in silence while I walked out into the bright air.

I moved into the beach house full time and started my life over. I repainted the walls and washed the windows until the light was warm again.

I found my mother’s notes in the attic and read them until the light turned gold. “A house should not become a test of loyalty,” she had written.