My attorney will be in touch by noon.” Julian blinked.

“What?” Eleanor found her voice.

“That townhouse belongs to my son!” I looked at her without anger or pity, which I think unsettled her more than either would have.

“No, Eleanor.

The lease is in my name.

The deposit came from my account.

The rent comes out of my paycheck.

Julian lives there because I permitted him to.” Julian took a step back, and his face did the thing a man’s face does when the floor he’s always stood on turns out never to have been his.