“It has everything to do with it,” I said.

“The probate court looks at abandonment, especially when the deceased was the one who took me in.”

“Elliot was a hoarder who ran a failing trucking company,” my father said, stepping closer to the table.

“We are his legal heirs. You are just a niece who happened to be around.”

“I ran his company for five years while he was sick,” I said. “You didn’t even call.”

“We were busy,” my mother said, her voice rising slightly.

“We had lives, Avery. You can’t expect us to have stayed in this godforsaken town forever.”

“You left a sixteen-year-old girl with fifty dollars and a half-empty fridge,” I said.

The room went silent, save for the crackling of the fire.

My father reached into his pocket and pulled out a leather checkbook and a pen.

“We are prepared to offer you a settlement,” he said, placing them on the table.

“Fifty thousand dollars. You sign the waiver, and you walk away from Northline.”

“Fifty thousand?” I laughed, the sound cold and hollow.

“The warehouse property alone is worth two million.”