My Brother And Mom Showed Up To Kick Me Out Of My $5 Million Inherited Home, Grinning, “You’re Out By The Weekend.” I Just Smiled And Said, “Read The Name On The Title Again.” The Movers Froze… WHEN A REAL LAWYER AND POLICE OFFICER ARRIVED

“Andrew, what are you talking about—the farmhouse? I’m sick.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,”
he scoffed, his tone instantly shifting from fake nice to his usual brand of impatient.
“Just be there. We’re bringing someone who’s going to help streamline this whole inheritance thing. It’s for the best.”

Before I could even process what streamline meant, he hung up.

A cold dread—sharper and more chilling than my fever—cut straight through me.

The farmhouse. My grandparents’ farmhouse.

The place I had poured my entire heart—and a significant portion of my savings—into.

The place I had inherited free and clear six months ago.

I pushed myself off the sofa, my legs unsteady.

My profession as an estate appraiser meant I knew paperwork.

I knew deeds, titles, and wills better than most lawyers.

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