“No,” Lucas said.
Everyone looked at him.
His voice was still small, but this time it wasn’t apologetic.
“You were making fun of Mom.”
Jennifer opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
I put my hand over Lucas’s.
“You don’t have to explain anything.”
He nodded.
Trevor saw the attention moving away from him and tried to take control again.
“Fine.
Hartwell had a few people staying late during a busy stretch.
The charges got coded incorrectly.
That’s an accounting problem, not some conspiracy.”
“Then the cure process should be easy,” I said.
He stared at me.
“What cure process?”
I turned the page toward him.
“The one you initialed.”
The clause gave the tenant a defined opportunity to provide records and correct undisclosed building-use costs after notice.
That was the important part.
Ownership didn’t give me the right to invent punishment because I was angry.
The lease controlled what happened next.
And the lease was specific.
Hartwell would have to reconcile the access records against its reported usage, identify the service costs that had been pushed into cleaning, and pay any building expenses that should have been separately assessed.
If Hartwell failed to do that within the required cure period, the violation could become a default.
And if the tenant defaulted and couldn’t satisfy its obligations, the personal guarantor was exposed.
Trevor.
Jennifer read until she reached that part.
Her eyes stopped moving.
“How much?”
Trevor said nothing.
She looked up.
“How much could you be responsible for?”
“We don’t know that there is anything to be responsible for.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Dad sat back down slowly.
Mom looked exhausted now, the way people look when a family argument stops being about manners and becomes about consequences.
Trevor pushed his plate away.
“The company is fine.”
Jennifer’s laugh was short and unbelieving.
“Five minutes ago you said she was one missed payment away from disaster.
Now your name is guaranteeing my company’s lease and you won’t tell me what the exposure is.”
He lowered his voice.
“Jennifer.”
“No.
Don’t do that.”
She pointed toward the papers.
“You replied to the ownership notice?”
He hesitated.
I answered.
“Yes.”
Jennifer looked at me.
“You saw his reply?”
“Mara forwarded the file when she assembled the tenant correspondence.”
“And he knew you owned the building?”
