During Dad's Retirement Party, He Gave Away My House—Until The Title Company Called

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During Dad's Retirement Party, He Gave Away My House—Until The Title Company Called
‪‪@echoofwrath-w2y‬

The invitation arrived three weeks before: "Join us celebrating Robert Martinez's retirement after 35 years at Morrison Financial Group. Party at the Martinez estate, 2 PM Saturday."
The Martinez estate. My house.
At twenty-nine, I was a senior investment analyst at Blackstone Capital Management. My annual compensation: $600,000. My clients: tech billionaires and hedge fund managers.
My family thought I was an administrative assistant at "some financial company."
The house they called the Martinez estate was a six-bedroom colonial on three acres. I'd purchased it four years ago for $1.2 million cash. Current value: $1.8 million. My parents had lived there rent-free for two years before moving to Florida. They thought the "landlord" was flexible. They never questioned it.
My brother Marcus, thirty-four, had burned through three businesses, two marriages, and most of his trust fund. He lived in a rented townhouse with his third wife, Vanessa, constantly complaining about needing "real space."
Saturday arrived. I drove my modest Honda—my Tesla and Range Rover stayed in my private downtown garage. Questions about expensive cars would be complicated.
The driveway was packed at 1:45 PM. Catering vans. A bartender on my patio. A DJ in my garden.
Inside, Mom directed caterers in the kitchen I'd renovated for $95,000. Dad held court in the living room where I'd restored crown molding for $40,000. Marcus and Vanessa were on the deck, her hand on her baby bump.
"Sofia! Finally," Mom said. "Set up the gift table."
No hello. No thank you. Just orders.
By 2:30 PM, the house was packed. Dad's colleagues, Florida neighbors, extended family. Everyone celebrating in my house.
At 3 PM, Dad clinked his glass. Everyone gathered.
"Thank you all for coming," Dad began. "Thirty-five years at Morrison Financial has been an honor. But today isn't just about retirement. It's about family. About legacy."
He gestured to Marcus and Vanessa. "My son and his wife are expecting my first grandchild. Which brings me to an important announcement—Marcus, Vanessa, this house is yours now."
The room erupted. Marcus looked shocked. Vanessa cried. Mom beamed.
"You're giving them the estate?" someone asked.
"A retiring man doesn't need this space," Dad said. "But Marcus needs room for his family. This house should stay in the Martinez name."
Applause. Champagne. Congratulations.
I stood still, phone in pocket, silent.
"The house has been in our family for years," Dad continued. "Marcus has been working hard on his business venture. He deserves this stability."
Marcus's business venture was day-trading cryptocurrency from his couch.
"When do we move in?" Vanessa asked.
"Immediately," Dad said. "I've spoken with property management. Paperwork ready next week. You can start moving this weekend."
My aunt Carmen approached me. "Isn't this wonderful? Your brother finally getting success."

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