Mine.
The crowd shifted.
Someone coughed.
“Two years ago, I gave my parents a spare key for emergencies. Last month, while I was in Singapore on a business trip, they used that key to do this.”
I clicked to the next slide.
The video started.
My mother walked through my living room with a measuring tape. My father followed, taking notes. The timestamp was clear in the corner.
Then my mother’s voice filled the ballroom.
“Gerald, please. Once everything is here, she will not make a scene. She will just accept it. You know how she is.”
I paused the video.
The room was dead silent.
I looked at my mother. Her face had gone pale.
“That’s you, Mom. In my house. Planning to move Kyle in without telling me, without asking me, because you assumed I would just accept it.”
“This is a family matter,” my mother said, her voice cracking. “This is private.”
