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.

Guests began slipping toward the exits.

The room, which had been polished and bright twenty minutes earlier, now felt hollow.

Kyle shoved his way toward the stage, Brittany close behind him.

“This is insane,” he said. “You’re making a huge scene over nothing. It’s just a house. Family shares. That’s what family does.”

“It’s my house, Kyle,” I said. “And you’re leaving it.”

“You can’t do that.”

I held up my phone.

“This is an email from Marcus Webb, a real estate attorney. He has confirmed that as sole title holder, I have complete legal authority over who lives in my property. You moved in without written consent. If you’re not out by March eighteenth at six p.m., I’ll take the next legal step to have you removed.”

Kyle opened his mouth.

For once, nothing came out.

Brittany grabbed his arm.