I caught my dad on my security camera planning to move my brother into my house while I was on a trip, and when my mom said, “Once everything is here, she will not make a scene. She will just accept it,” I set a trap for them.

Then I opened the app.

My parents were inside my house.

Not outside.

Inside.

My mother, Donna Seward, stood in my kitchen opening cabinets. My father, Gerald, walked toward the hallway with a measuring tape in one hand and his phone in the other, like he was documenting a property he had every right to inspect.

For one second, my mind tried to rescue them.

Maybe Rachel, my neighbor, had called them because something looked wrong.

I almost hit the call button.

Almost.

Instead, I rewound the footage.

The first clip began at 2:47 p.m. Denver time. My mother unlocked my front door with the spare key I had given her two years earlier. She stepped inside without hesitation, my father trailing behind her, and the two of them moved through my home as if they were touring a rental.

My mother measured the basement.

She opened closets.

She checked the water pressure in the bathroom.