Mark didn’t answer.

Mom stepped between us.

“Julie, please calm down.”

“Calm down?”

I held up my phone.

“Someone just attempted to access an account connected to my renovation expenses.”

Mark swallowed.

“It wasn’t what you think.”

“Then tell me what it was.”

Chloe suddenly started crying.

That made everything worse.

Because until that moment, she had acted like I was the villain.

Now she couldn’t even look at me.

I opened my banking app.

The attempted transfer had been for $50,000.

Exactly.

My entire renovation budget.

The money I had spent over three years.

The money I had earned working overtime.

The money I had saved before moving into the cottage.

Someone had apparently tried to move that amount into another account.

I looked at Mark.

“Why $50,000?”

He finally whispered:

“Because that’s what the house is worth now.”

I almost laughed.

“You mean that’s what the house is worth because I spent $50,000 fixing it.”

Mark looked down.

Mom suddenly said, “We were going to reimburse you.”

“When?”

Silence.

“After you moved out?”

Another silence.

I looked at Chloe.

“Did you know about this?”

She shook her head.

But her expression told me she was lying.

I opened my laptop.

Then I did something they didn’t expect.

I called my attorney.

I explained everything.

The original condition of the cottage.

My renovation expenses.

The receipts.

The written messages.

The attempted transfer.

The sudden eviction.

And the fact that my brother had apparently tried to access money connected to my renovation records.

My attorney told me one thing:

“Don’t remove anything else until I review your documents.”

So I stopped.

That afternoon, I sent him everything.

Receipts.

Photographs.

Bank statements.

Contractor messages.

Before-and-after photographs.

Even the original conversation where Mom had offered me the cottage to live in.

Two hours later, my attorney called.

“Julie, there’s something you need to know.”

“What?”

“The property deed.”

My stomach tightened.

“What about it?”

“Your mother may not actually have the authority she thinks she has.”

I stared at the screen.

“Explain.”

He told me to meet him first thing Monday morning.

Then he said:

“Bring every document you have.”

That night, I barely slept.

Because for the first time, I wasn’t wondering whether I had been treated unfairly.

I was wondering whether my family had just made a massive legal mistake.

And Monday morning, I was going to find out exactly what it was.

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