My mom slid a listing across the table. “We’re selling. You have 60 days to leave.” My sister hit record: “Finally. Good luck, loser.” I drove to the lawyer with the envelope Grandma left me. He read one line… and locked the door. “Ms. Somers,” he said: “You need to sit down.”

Chapter 1: The Invisible Math

My name is Bridget Summers. I am thirty-four years old. My family finally unraveled on a damp Tuesday morning in early April.

I came down the main staircase, the old pine steps groaning beneath my boots, and entered the kitchen. My mother sat at the center island, one hand around a steaming mug of dark roast and the other pinning a glossy real estate listing to the butcher block counter. The photo on the page showed the house we were standing…