Emily tried one last card that night.
“Let’s call a lawyer tomorrow. I’m sure we can contest those deeds. We’ve been living here for three years. That gives us rights—good faith possession or something.”
Daniel looked at her with a mixture of disgust and disappointment.
“You still don’t get it. She has everything documented. Every dollar, every receipt, and worse.”
He ran his hands over his face.
“She’s right. We treated her like trash. I let you treat her like trash.”
He stood up and walked to the kids’ room.
Michael told me his dad hugged him that night and cried.
He cried like Michael hadn’t seen him cry since Grandpa David died.
“I ruined everything,” he told his nine-year-old son. “I lost Grandma because I was an idiot.”
That night, no one slept in the house they thought was theirs.
The house that was always mine.
