Dad crossed his arms.

“Don’t make this emotional, Claire.”

Daniel leaned back in his chair with a grin.

“You’ll marry some Canadian guy and forget about all this anyway.”

I nearly laughed.

For six years, I had handled the family finances. I knew every mortgage balance, every tax payment, every late bill Daniel had caused, and every document Dad had signed without fully reading.

What none of them seemed to remember was that two years earlier, when Dad’s construction company had nearly collapsed, I had rescued it with a private loan of $180,000.

A lawyer had drafted the agreement.

It had been notarized.