Then I asked about money.
“How much did you spend feeding all of them?”
Sasha’s voice cracked.
“About $800. In two weeks.”
Meanwhile, Omar claimed they were “broke,” then went out to eat with his dad anyway.
And Sasha—my daughter—was washing dishes until her hands were red and split.
This is the moment a lot of parents make a mistake.
They explode emotionally… and the leeches learn how to manipulate the chaos.
I did the opposite.
I went straight to the only thing that matters when people start playing ownership games:
the deed.
I took Sasha’s hands and said it clearly.
“This house is yours. It is not Omar’s. It is not Denise’s. It is yours.”
Then I told her the part that made her sit up straighter.
“I put it solely in your name.”
She stared at me, stunned.
Because Denise had been talking like the property belonged to her son.
But legally?
It didn’t.
We walked back inside.
And I ended the occupation in one sentence.
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