My mother glared at me, her anger palpable. “You manipulated him!” she accused, her voice a sharp edge of betrayal and disbelief.

I met her gaze evenly. “No, Mom. Dad asked me to save the house. I did it for him—and for Emma. So neither of you would lose your home.”

Emma, standing on the periphery, eyes wide with shock, seemed more bewildered than angry. This wasn’t the sisterly bond our parents had envisioned. She was just as much a pawn in their game as I had been.