“Thirty-six bank receipts,” I said.

“Thirty-six automatic monthly transfers of three thousand dollars apiece, adding up to one hundred eight thousand dollars sent between November twenty twenty-one and last month.”

“You lived under this roof,” Brent shouted, bending down until his face filled the little bottom window.

“You used the utilities.

You ate our groceries.”

“Two weeks ago I paid a four-hundred-dollar electric bill from my car while you were unboxing a nine-hundred-dollar graphics card,” I said.

I rubbed the back of my neck with my right hand, slowly.