Between them, my sister and Julian had prepared a defense for every move I could plausibly make.

Call the police about the house: they would produce the deed.

Call the police about my mother: they would produce the caregiver paperwork and the dementia story.

Try to reclaim the property in civil court: they would drag it out for years while collecting rent.

Go to the press: they would paint me as the absent daughter fighting over an inheritance.

Every ordinary avenue had been anticipated and mined.