“You wanted this crowd for cover,” I continued. “Your mother insisted on having her birthday party at my house because she wanted witnesses. Noise. Food. Cake. Music. Relatives. Pressure. She wanted all of it piled onto me so I’d sign whatever papers you put in front of me and smile while I did it.”
Helena let out a strained laugh. “That is insane. What papers?”
“The ones you discussed with Travis in my office last Thursday at 7:14 p.m.,” I said calmly. “The ones about adding Daniel as co-owner and using the equity line once the transfer cleared.”
The name hit them like a crack in glass.
Daniel went pale.
“Your failing business,” I added. “The loans. The unpaid suppliers. The investor who backed out. You needed my house to cover it.”
Silence answered me.
“Tell them,” I said. “Tell them why you were going through my father’s documents.”
“Enough,” Helena snapped.
But I was already pressing play.
The recording filled the space—Daniel’s voice, Travis’s voice, and then Helena’s, cold and certain:
“Once the house is in both names, she can cry all she wants. A wife doesn’t throw out her husband’s family.”
No one moved.
“Turn it off!” Daniel shouted.
“Then sue the camera,” I said quietly.