“You gave away her dog.” I kept my voice level, one hand already in my pocket, my thumb finding my phone. “You emptied her room, taped a note to her door, and told an eleven-year-old to stop crying and come smile for a party.”

I pressed record.

“That animal was a problem, and I solved it,” Martha said, dropping the sweetness entirely. “Paige was afraid of it. A child’s comfort comes before an old dog’s, and that is the end of it.”

“Max was my mother’s guide dog. She’s a registered service animal. And you dumped her at a shelter to be put down.”

“I took her to the shelter myself,” Arthur said from the head of the table, almost proud. “That’s what you do with an animal that’s outlived its use. Now sit down and stop making a scene in my house.”

Brenda had gone quiet, looking between her parents with dawning horror. Paige, sensing the room had turned, started to cry.