I’d spent four years sleeping in a cramped trailer with six other men, working through fevers, wearing worn-out boots to save a few dollars, spending holidays staring at a phone.

To my mother, all of it could simply be done again, because I was a man. To Paige, my sweat was an unlimited credit card.

“I didn’t take one thing that belonged to either of you,” I said. “This house was built with my earnings. The investments came from my paychecks. And you signed the transfer forms of your own free will, because you were greedy for four hundred thousand more.”

Paige started to cry in real panic. “My wedding is in less than a month! What am I supposed to tell Derek — he expects this house as part of the settlement!”

“Tell him the truth,” I said. “Tell him you claimed the wealth your brother earned with his hands while you let your sick sister-in-law starve.”

The notary confirmed the property donation had been entirely voluntary, that every legal consequence had been explained, and that the deed transfer was already moving through the county records office.