“That’s good.”
“We may have to sell the house.”
Fiona did not react.
“Then you may have to sell the house.”
The calmness of her answer made the decision feel real.
Not cruel.
Not catastrophic.
Simply real.
Chelsea spoke quietly.
“If we sell, we can repay the loan.”
“That is one possibility,” Fiona said.
“Your father does not want you homeless.
He also does not want to remain financially tied to a lifestyle you cannot sustain.”
Logan rubbed his hands together.
“I thought he was going to take everything.”
“He never intended to.”
“He could have.”
“Yes.”
The conference room door opened.
Albert stepped inside.
He wore a gray jacket, a clean blue shirt, and the same old leather shoes he had owned for years.
His hair was neatly combed.
He looked thinner than Logan remembered, but not diminished.
He looked free.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then Chelsea stood.
