My sister Brooke said it as casually as if she were asking me to pass the salt.

Two days later, the storm Julian had predicted finally broke.

The local newspaper published the county legal notices, including a civil suit filed by a local commercial landlord against Brooke’s defunct boutique, accompanied by an announcement of foreclosure on Brooke and Greg’s five-bedroom house in the gated community of Whispering Pines.

At three in the afternoon, my phone rang.

It wasn't Brooke. It was Mason.

"Uncle Rupert?" The boy’s voice was strained, muffled as if he were hiding in a closet.

"Hey, Mason. You okay?"

"Mom and Dad are screaming," the boy whispered, the sound of breaking glass audible somewhere in the background. "Dad’s packing his clothes into trash bags. The police came by an hour ago to serve some papers, and Mom’s... she’s completely losing it. She’s throwing things."

I stood up from my desk immediately, grabbing my coat from the peg by the door. "Where’s Madison?"

"She’s with me. In my room. We pushed the dresser in front of the door."

"Don't move," I said. "I'm ten minutes away."

I didn't call the police; I called Julian, told him to be on standby, and got into my truck.

When I pulled up to Brooke’s house in Whispering Pines, the illusion of wealth had completely evaporated. The lawn was overgrown beneath the melting snow; two cardboard boxes full of clothes were sitting on the wet front porch, soaked through; and Greg’s luxury sedan was parked in the street with a repossession wheel-lock already clamped around the front tire.

The front door was wide open to the freezing air.

Inside, Brooke was sitting on the bottom step of the grand spiral staircase, her mascara smeared across her cheeks, surrounded by heaps of open mail, past-due notices, and half-packed luggage. Greg was nowhere to be seen.

When she saw me walk through the door, her eyes flared with a desperate, wild fury.

"Did you come to gloat?" she shrieked, scrambling to her feet, her voice echoing off the twenty-foot ceilings. "Look at it, Rupert! Look at what you did! If you had just let me have that equity loan, none of this would have happened! Greg wouldn't have left! We could have paid the taxes! You ruined my life!"

I stopped at the base of the stairs, keeping my hands in my jacket pockets.

"You ruined your own life, Brooke," I said calmly. "You’ve been living on credit and lies for fifteen years, and the bill finally came due. Where are the kids?"

"They're my children!" she screamed, lunging toward me. "You can't have them! You think you can take everything from me? You think you can take Mom, take the house, and now take my kids?"

"Mason!" I called out, ignoring her completely. "Madison! Grab your bags!"

A door clicked open on the second-floor landing. Mason peered over the banister, holding a canvas duffel bag. Behind him, Madison was clutching her school backpack.

"Mason, don't you dare go down those stairs!" Brooke shrieked, turning toward the landing. "I am your mother! If you walk out that door, you are never coming back!"

Mason didn't pause. He looked at his mother with an expression that was terrifyingly calm for a fourteen-year-old.

"We don't want to come back, Mom," Mason said quietly. "We haven't had food in the fridge for three days. You spent the grocery money on the dog’s grooming yesterday."

Madison followed her brother down the stairs, stepping around her mother as though Brooke were an obstacle in the road.

Brooke reached out to grab Madison’s arm, but Mason stepped between them, his jaw set, his body blocking hers with quiet, stubborn determination.

"Don't, Mom," Mason said again. "Just... don't."

Brooke’s hand fell. She sank back down onto the stairs, burying her face in her hands, her wails echoing through the empty, echoing mansion as the three of us walked out into the winter afternoon.

I loaded the kids' bags into the bed of my truck, helped Madison into the back seat, and watched Mason climb into the passenger side.

"Where are we going?" Mason asked, his voice cracking slightly as he stared out the windshield at the house he was leaving behind.