The address on the deed was 412 Winding Creek Drive. The house where Thomas had grown up. The house where he had eaten at this same table absorbing every insult dressed as love.
His company owned it now. Had for six months.
Thomas wiped the blood from his hand. He looked at his father. He looked at his mother. He looked at Claire, who had gone very quiet.
“You can stay,” he said. “I’m not raising rent on my own parents. But the terms have changed. And everyone at this table needs to understand what that means.”
