Part 2: My sister gave a champagne toast claiming my dream mountain lodge was hers, but she had no idea I was standing in the doorway holding the actual deed.

Nobody moved. The silence in the room was so thick you could hear the pine logs hissing in the hearth.

For three agonizing seconds, Aunt Carol stared at the legal document on the table, then looked up at Olivia with a furrowed brow. The sourdough couple traded an uncomfortable glance and slowly set their half-eaten smoked salmon canapés down on paper napkins.

"Becca," my mother said, stepping in front of Olivia like a human barricade. Her voice trembled, a mixture of fury and desperate pleading. "Bedroom. Five minutes. If you have an ounce of respect for this family, you will walk into that room with us before you destroy everything."

I looked around the room. Two dozen people were holding drinks, looking at me like I was a burglar who had crashed a holiday party. If I called the sheriff right now, it would be an ugly, chaotic brawl. I wanted answers first. I wanted to know how in God's name they had even crossed the threshold.

"Five minutes," I said coldly.

I turned and walked down the hallway toward the master suite, leaving muddy boot prints on the white oak floors. Behind me, I heard the rapid rustle of heels and the heavy thud of Jason’s boots following close behind.

The moment the bedroom door clicked shut, my mother lunged forward and grabbed both of my wrists. "Are you out of your mind? Do you know who is in that living room? That’s Greg Vance from Summit Capital! Jason’s firm is in the middle of a massive funding round!"

"I don't give a damn about Summit Capital," I tore my wrists from her grip, my heart pounding against my ribs like a sledgehammer. "How did you get in here, Mom? Where did you get the keys?"

My mother flinched, looking away.

Olivia, however, didn't flinch. She leaned against the cedar closet door, arms crossed, exuding a chilly, calculated calm. "Mom gave me the lockbox code, Becca. She’s your mother. You told her the code so she could check on the pipes before the freeze."

"I gave Mom the code to check on the plumbing because the temperatures dropped to five below zero," I stared at my mother, the betrayal burning in my throat like bile. "I trusted you. And you handed it to Olivia so she could throw a fake party to impress investors?"

"It’s not a fake party!" Jason blurted out, raking a hand through his thinning hair. His confident persona was cracking, revealing the raw panic beneath. "Becca, listen to me. Our company lost the lease on the Cherry Creek office two weeks ago. The landlord locked us out. If Greg finds out we’re bleeding cash, the bridge loan falls through, and we lose our house in Denver. We lose everything!"

"So your solution was to break into my private property and claim it’s yours?" I scoffed. "Are you insane? What was the endgame here, Jason? Were you going to forge my signature on a lease? Were you going to tell your investors you live in Ouray now?"

"We just needed the optics for one weekend!" Olivia snapped, stepping forward, her mask finally slipping completely off. Her eyes were hard, filled with an ancient, toxic resentment that went back to our childhood bedrooms. "Just seventy-two hours, Becca! You don't even live here full-time yet! You’re just a freelance software consultant—you can work from anywhere! Why do you need an eight-thousand-square-foot lodge while my family is on the brink of ruin?"

"Because I paid for it!" I yelled, my voice cracking with pure outrage. "I earned it! You spent the last ten years blowing Jason’s bonuses on leased Range Rovers, private schools you couldn't afford, and trips to Cabo to keep up with your Instagram followers! That’s not my fault!"

"Family helps family," my mother pleaded, tears welling up in her eyes. "Becca, you’re her sister. If Jason doesn't get this funding, they will be out on the street with your niece and nephew. Just pretend you’re staying as their guest for the weekend. We’ll leave on Sunday night. Nobody has to know."