“Mom,” I said quietly, “I’m not fixing anything.” Then I told her the bank had frozen the attempted transfer, the security footage had been preserved, and police were already documenting the condition of my house. The silence on her end changed instantly. Rosalind stopped begging and started explaining. Suddenly the furniture was only “being stored.” The jewelry was supposedly “safer with Corinne.” The $650,000 had apparently been money they believed I would eventually share anyway.
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