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I am simply protecting something that is mine by right.”
“But that money comes from Dad’s property,” she insisted. “That property was also our inheritance.”
“Your inheritance? That property was abandoned for years while I was wearing myself out trying to maintain it. You never lifted a finger to help with the expenses, with the maintenance, with anything.
And now that I converted it into money with my effort and my decision, it turns out it’s your inheritance.”
“Inheritance is inheritance, Mom,” Patricia said stubbornly. “It doesn’t matter if you sold it or not.”
Just then, I heard the engine of another car approaching. Through the window, I saw my son Michael’s black pickup truck parking next to Patricia’s car.
My heart sank because I knew this visit was not a coincidence. Clearly, Patricia had planned all this in advance. Michael entered the house without even knocking on the door, as if it were his own house.
He is a tall, heavy-set man, 35 years old, with a messy beard and always dressed in old T-shirts and ripped jeans. He had gained a lot of weight in recent years and had that tired look of someone who drinks too much. “Hi, Mom,” he said with a forced smile.
“How are you? Patricia told me the good news about the sale of the property.”
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