“So you gave her my future.”

Mom pushed the folder away. “You survived.” That sentence told me everything. Not that they were sorry. Not that they had misunderstood ownership. Only that I had survived — as though surviving erased what they had done.

Elias moved to my side and placed a settlement agreement in front of them. The terms were clear. They would withdraw every public statement about my emotional stability and professional conduct.

They would agree never to reveal private records or discuss my finances. They would repay the trust by transferring their remaining equity in a small commercial property and selling nonessential assets.

In exchange, I would resolve the civil claim without public litigation.

Dad read the opening page. “You want our property.”