“What are you saying?”
I placed the transfer package on the coffee table.
“I’m prepared to give the condo to Brandon.”
Silence lasted for one second.
Then the entire room came alive.
Patricia grabbed the documents.
Dylan stood.
Megan sat upright as though her pregnancy had suddenly become lighter.
“You’re serious?” Dylan asked.
“Yes.”
Patricia’s hands trembled with excitement.
“This is what a good wife does.”
She hurried into the bedroom.
“Brandon! Wake up. Claire finally understands.”
He emerged several minutes later with disordered hair and an expression that changed the moment he heard the word transfer.
“You want to put the condo in my name?”
“Yes.”
Suspicion and satisfaction fought across his face.
“What changed?”
“Last night clarified many things.”
Patricia placed a pen in his hand.
“Sign before she changes her mind.”
Brandon sat on the sofa and skimmed the first page. He did not read the clauses. He saw “conditional gift transfer,” the property address, and his name.
His eyes gleamed.
The pen touched the paper.
“There is one related detail,” I said.
His hand stopped.
“What?”
“The transfer package activates an investment credit facility secured against the condo. The approved amount is eight hundred and seventy-five thousand dollars. If the lender approves you as the new owner, you assume the monthly payment.”
The pen fell onto the table.
Patricia’s smile disappeared.
“How much per month?” Brandon asked.
“Approximately eighty-nine hundred dollars, depending on the final rate.”
No one spoke.
Dylan slowly lowered himself into a chair.
Megan’s eyes moved toward the hallway, calculating the fastest route to her bags.
Brandon stared at the documents.
“You borrowed almost nine hundred thousand dollars?”
“The facility is part of an investment plan. It activates with the transfer.”
“You expect me to pay nine thousand a month?”
“You said the condo is also yours. Responsibility should be shared with ownership.”
“That debt is your problem.”
Patricia threw the papers onto the table.
“You are trying to trap my son.”
“Five minutes ago, you said the condo should belong to him.”
“Not with a debt attached.”
“So the home is family property, but the obligation is mine alone?”
“Of course,” she snapped. “You created it.”
I looked at her carefully.
“I’ll remember that sentence.”
Dylan stood and reached for Megan’s bag.
“We should go home until you two settle this.”
Patricia turned on him.
“Go where? You moved in last night.”
“Our apartment isn’t that bad,” Megan said quickly. “The doctor mostly said I need rest.”
“Yesterday, it was too dusty for the baby.”
“I may have exaggerated.”
The family unity they had praised all night dissolved in less than three minutes.
Brandon pushed the documents toward me.
“No one with common sense would take a condo with that kind of payment.”
“For five years, did you ever ask how I paid the building fees, groceries, insurance, your mother’s allowance, Dylan’s loans, or the car you drive?”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“You make more.”
“So responsibility belongs to whoever can carry it, but authority belongs to you?”
His face reddened.
“You are twisting everything.”
“No. I’m placing the pieces in the correct column.”
Patricia pointed at me.
“You are unfit to be part of this family.”
I gathered the transfer papers into a neat stack.
“Then I will stop being part of it.”
Brandon stared.
“What did you say?”
“I said I have a flight to catch.”
He looked at my suitcase.
“Where are you going?”
“Seattle.”
“For how long?”
“I accepted a regional director position.”
His confidence vanished.
“You accepted it without discussing it with me?”
“You made a permanent housing decision without discussing it with me. Then you taught me how little my agreement matters in this marriage.”
He stepped toward the doorway.