In the bedroom, I found a leather notebook with my name on it.
Thomas had documented everything.
The solar system was paid for.
The well was new.
Property taxes were minimal and prepaid for several years.
At the bottom of the first section, he had written:
“Jared and Vanessa care about how things look. You care about how things last. Watch what happens next.”
I laughed through tears.
Then my phone rang.
Vanessa.
I ignored it.
A message arrived moments later.
She wanted $3,500 for the penthouse HOA payment.
No apology for throwing me out.
No question about whether I had arrived safely.
Just a request for money.
Jared and I still shared an emergency savings account containing $30,000.
I transferred my half—$15,000—into my own account.
Then I texted:
“I’ve removed my half of the emergency fund. The rest belongs to you. Manage it carefully.”
Jared called immediately.
“Mom, what are you doing? We need that money for the penthouse.”
