Mom whispered, “Foundation?”
I did not answer Mom first.
I turned to the reporter. “Yes. But no family photos.”
Chloe flinched.
Her old cruelty returned like a bill finally due.
The house was not going back to my family. I had legally purchased it through the bank after months of missed payments. My foundation would renovate it into temporary housing for working mothers finishing school.
Mom gripped the table. “You would give strangers my home?”
“No,” I said. “I’m giving struggling people a safe place. There’s a difference.”
Mason rubbed
