When Gina called me, her voice was a whirlwind of anxiety and disbelief. “Dad, they’re saying we have to leave the house! How could this happen? We’ve been paying rent!” Her words tumbled out, each one laden with confusion.
I took a deep breath, steadying myself for what I was about to say. “Gina,” I began, choosing my words carefully, “there’s something you need to know. The house you’ve been living in – I’ve owned it all along.”
For a moment, silence hung between us like a dense fog. I imagined her standing there, her mind racing as she tried to process my confession.
