I knelt in front of her. “No, sweetheart. You didn’t.”

“Dad didn’t stop them.”

I had no comforting lie left to give. “I know.”

Her eyes filled, but the tears didn’t fall. That was worse. Grace had always been a soft-hearted girl, but in that moment I watched a door inside her gently close and the deadbolt slide shut.

At 8:06 a.m. I called a lawyer. At 9:15 I changed the Wi-Fi password. At 10:40 I handed Richard and Patricia a formal, written thirty-day notice to vacate.

I’d expected anger. I’d expected Patricia’s weaponized tears. What I didn’t expect was Richard smiling — a thin, predatory stretch of lips.