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When my grandparents passed, they left the sprawling five-million-dollar property to me.
It wasn’t a simple gift.
It was saddled with reverse mortgages, back taxes, and liens that would have seen it seized by the bank within a month.
My mother, Margaret, and my brother, Andrew, had wanted nothing to do with it.
“It’s a tear-down, Hannah,”
my mother had said, waving a hand.
“A money pit. Let the bank take it.”
Andrew just saw it as a problem he couldn’t instantly liquidate.
I took it on.
I took a personal loan.
I liquidated my own retirement accounts.
I spent four agonizing months in probate court, satisfying every creditor.
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