Benjamin's hand stilled on the desk.
"Careful," he warned quietly.
Olivia scoffed. "She is rearranging rooms, ordering staff around, making decisions without consulting anyone—"
"Anyone?" he cut in, sharp now. "Or without consulting you?"
Her lips parted. "Benjamin—"
"That house," he said, voice firm, rising just enough to end the discussion, "is Pauline's."
The words landed heavy.
"She lived there long before you," he continued. "She left it by choice and now she has returned by choice."
Olivia shook her head, incredulous. "I have lived there for twenty years."
"And yet, it was truly never yours." Benjamin said calmly, "This house belongs to Pauline and my mother more than anyone, even me."
Silence crashed between them.
"You don't get to question what she does in that house," he went on. "She doesn't need permission, she doesn't need approval and she certainly doesn't need to explain herself."
Olivia's voice trembled despite herself. "You are letting her erase me."
