“Well,” he said, glancing inside, “you’ve managed. I’ll give you that.”
Daniel stepped forward.
Dad sighed.
“I’m done waiting. We need to talk.”
“About what?” I asked.
He looked at me.
“About what belongs to me.”
He straightened his jacket.
“This house. It was bought by your mother and me. After she died, everything became mine.”
Daniel stiffened.
Dad nodded.
“I need it back.”
“For what?” I asked.
“My life. My girlfriend and I are moving in.”
I felt the anger rise—but I stayed calm.
“Okay.”
Daniel turned sharply.
“Anna—”
“If that’s how it is.”
Dad smiled.
“Good. I knew you’d be reasonable.”
“When do you want to come back?”
“Tomorrow. Around two.”
“Alright. Come. I’ll have everything ready.”
After he left, Daniel demanded,
“What are you doing?”
“Setting a trap.”
That night, we pulled out every document we’d saved.
“Guardianship,” Daniel murmured.
“Adoption paperwork,” I added.
Then I remembered Mom’s voice in the hospital. Talk to the lawyer.
The next day, Dad returned—confident.
“Well?” he said. “I hope you didn’t waste my time.”
Then a man stepped forward.
“Good afternoon. I’m the family attorney.”
Everything changed.
“That’s the deed,” the lawyer said.
“Revised.”
“The will,” he continued. “Updated.”
“And these,” he added, “are the guardianship and transfer filings.”
Dad protested.
“She wouldn’t do that.”
“She did,” I said quietly. “Because she knew you.”
Continue reading…
