They’d lived there rent-free for over a decade.

No paperwork. Just a mother’s blind, foolish love.

The documents Iris delivered included a formal, ironclad lease.

The rent: eleven hundred dollars a month — barely half the market value. But for a couple who spent every dollar on designer clothes, Bahamas trips, and leased luxury cars, it was a death sentence.

The lease wasn’t even the main event.

Attached to it was a thick, professionally bound ledger titled The Accounting of Sacrifice.