quickly her chair tipped backward.
“You think money makes you better than us?”
Dad said quietly, “Linda, stop.”
But Mom was already yelling.
“If you hate helping your family so much, then leave. Get out. And don’t come back.”
I looked at Dad.
He stayed silent.
So I nodded.
“Okay.”
The next morning, I called the bank.
The mortgage was in Dad’s name.
Legally, the payments weren’t mine.
Neither were the taxes, utilities, or insurance.
I canceled every automatic payment tied to my account.
Then I leased a small apartment
