The sheer audacity of it was paralyzing. They hadn’t just come to take the house. They’d come to erase us — to bury us alive, wrapping their greed in the language of caregiving.

Ethan mistook my silence for submission. “I know it’s a shock, Dad. But the deed’s in the family trust. I’m the primary beneficiary. I spoke to a lawyer friend of mine.

If Mom’s incompetent, I have power of attorney rights I can invoke. Let’s just make this easy. Sign the transition papers.”

He really believed he’d won — believed I was just a tired old man who’d bow to the inevitable march of time and hand over the keys to avoid a fight.

“You spoke to a lawyer friend,” I murmured, nodding slowly. “That’s good, Ethan. You should always consult legal counsel.”

I turned my back on them and walked down the hall toward my study.