“My parents do not hold a single percentage of legal ownership over this house, Gregory.” Gregory turned to my father.

“Is your name on the deed, Wayne?” My father said nothing.

“Is Priscilla’s name on the deed?” Still nothing.

Gregory exhaled, jingling his keys, and turned and walked toward his SUV on the street.

Priscilla rushed down the steps after him in her slippers.

“Where are you going?” “To a hotel.

And then to figure out my next move.” “You’re walking out on me over a family disagreement?” He paused at the car door and looked back at her with disgust.

“You asked me to move my business into a grieving, pregnant widow’s bedroom because you assumed she was too exhausted to fight you off.” “You were fine with it ten minutes ago!” “Because you lied to my face and told me she offered it out of generosity.” He glanced at me for a second, shame and regret in his face, and got in his car and drove away.