I decided to leave work early and head to the cottage. As I drove, memories of family gatherings and holidays at my home ran through my mind. Nostalgia battled with the hurt, but I knew what needed to be done.

When I arrived, the security personnel were already there, politely informing my parents that they were not welcome. The expression on my mother’s face shifted from surprise to indignation as she spotted me approaching.

“Tessa, darling!” she called, attempting a smile. “This is all a big misunderstanding. We just thought—”

I held up a hand, cutting her off. “No, Mom. This isn’t a misunderstanding. You knew exactly what you were doing. This is my place, and I expect you to leave immediately.”

My father stepped forward, trying to assert some authority. “Tessa, this is just childish. We’re family. We should share.”