My grandmother let out a tired laugh.
“How funny. When it comes to taking my money, I’m very much alive. But when it comes to deciding what happens to my own home, suddenly I’m just a poor confused old woman who can’t understand anything.”
Marcus placed the contract on the table. The house was to be sold to one of my father’s associates at a laughably low price. The care facility was on the outskirts of the city, far from everyone. And the deposit — once again — was going to come out of my grandmother’s own account.
The full truth was worse than any suspicion: they hadn’t just left her behind at the airport. They had wanted to remove her from her own life entirely.
My father began talking about debts, about pressure, about how Sandra was bad with money, how Diane had asked for money too, how my cousins needed support. Everyone was a victim — except the woman warming her hands over the stove because she couldn’t afford to pay the heating bill.
