Rain hammers the window as I stand frozen in the hallway, the scent of my father’s cologne sharp in the air. The lawyer’s voice drones through the room, announcing the final terms. Mom sits silent, hands folded like she’s already accepted defeat.\n\nBut I remember this moment—the way they made her sign with trembling fingers, how they took the house, the savings, even her name on the lease. I died ten years later, alone in a hospital bed, erased.\n\nNow I’m twelve again, heart racing, fists clenched. This time, I step forward. ‘Wait,’ I say, voice shaking but clear. ‘Mom doesn’t agree to this.’\n\nAll eyes turn to me—shock, irritation, disdain. Dad smirks. ‘Go to your room, girl. Adults are talking.’\n\nMy pulse roars. I can back down… or I can start the war.