They Took the House I Funded for 5 Years… Then Showed Up at My Door With Suitcases (2 of 3)

Later, in the car, I broke. “I paid for that house for years. They didn’t even tell me.”
Mark’s jaw was tight. “They knew exactly what they were doing.”

Three weeks passed before my mother called, cheerful as ever, inviting us for “a family dinner.” A sliver of me hoped for an apology.

Instead, over roast chicken in the very house I’d been paying for, my parents dropped their next bomb.
“We can’t live here with the newlyweds,” Mom began.
“So,” Dad continued, “we’ve decided to move into your vacation place.”

I put my fork down. “Let me get this straight—you gave away the home I’ve been paying for, and now you expect to move into mine?”

“You hardly use it,” Lily chimed in.

“It’s mine,” I said evenly. “Bought with my money. And the answer is no.”

Mom’s face fell. “How can you do this to us? We’re your parents!”
“Exactly,” I replied. “Which is why you should’ve involved me before making decisions that affect me.”

Lily’s voice cracked like a whip. “You’re just jealous because they love me more!”
“If that’s true,” I said, standing, “let them live with you.”

Two blissful weeks of silence followed—until a call from my home security company came through at work. “We’ve detected motion at your vacation property. Is this authorized?”
“No,” I said. “Call the police.”

When I arrived, my parents were on the porch, suitcases in tow.
“Tell them it’s a misunderstanding,” Dad urged.
“They don’t have permission to be here,” I told the officers.
“Press charges?” one asked.
“No. But they can’t stay.”

The police drove them away, and I changed the locks that night.