“You’re selling my home?”
“Maya, don’t be dramatic,” Dad said. “We’re selling the condo that we’ve been helping you afford. It’s a family asset.”
My heart rate didn’t even spike. I was genuinely curious where this was going.
“You think you own my condo?”
“We’ve been contributing to your rent for years,” Mom said. “We have records of every transfer.”
That was technically true. They’d sent me money periodically. Help with rent, they called it. Usually around holidays. Usually $500 to $1,000. I deposited the checks and never corrected their assumption. The money was maybe one percent of my actual mortgage, which I’d paid off in 2021.
“The property will sell quickly,” Vance said. “Downtown Seattle market is strong. Estimate $2.90 to $3.10 million. After closing costs and our commission, the proceeds will clear your parents’ debt completely.”
“And where exactly am I supposed to live?” I asked.
Ashley reached across the table. “Maya, we know this is hard, but family helps family. You can stay with us for a few months until you find something affordable.”
Something affordable.
In their minds, I was about to be homeless and desperate.
Kevin added, “It’s actually good timing for you. Downtown living is expensive. You’ll save money in the suburbs.”
The suburbs. Like I was a college graduate moving back home.
Dad slid papers across the table. “We need your signature. Transfer of deed. Listing agreement. Authorization for sale.”
I looked at the documents. They had actually prepared everything, listed themselves as owners. My name appeared only as current resident.
“This is quite a lot to process,” I said calmly.
“Maya, our business is at stake,” Mom said, her voice rising. “The company your father and I built for 30 years. You can’t be selfish right now.”
Selfish.
That word hung in the air.
“Just sign the papers,” Dad said. “We’ll handle everything else.”
I smiled. Actually smiled.
Then I opened my purse and pulled out a folder I’d brought for exactly no reason except intuition. The trust documents, the deed, the title report, all of it.
I slid my folder across the table, past their listing agreement, and opened it to the first page.
“Before I sign anything,” I said, “I thought you might want to see this.”
Vance leaned forward. His eyes scanned the top document, and his expression changed. The professional mask slipped into something like alarm.
“What is that?” Dad demanded.
“The deed to my condo,” I said. “Want to read it?”
Mom snatched the paper. “This doesn’t make any sense. It says Maya Chin Irrevocable Living Trust, established April 2018.”
“Keep reading,” I encouraged.
“Property value $3.2 million. Purchase price $3.2 million. Trust designation. Federal protection under IRC 2036…”
Her voice trailed off.