I squeezed the wheels until the metal rims dug sharply into my palms.

“I’m your daughter.”

“I’ve lived in your house for thirteen years.”

“You’re a dependent,” Richard corrected.

He talked about me exactly the way he talked about a depreciating rental property.

“A dependent with a state-funded care protocol that we didn’t authorize.”

He uncrossed his arms and tapped his index finger on the blue folder.

“If we keep legal custody, the hospital’s collections department has access to the college fund.”