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Harper met my eyes. “Now, everything he thought he owned freezes. Immediately.”
Christmas morning arrived quietly.
I returned to the house I’d been expelled from less than twenty-four hours earlier, this time stepping out of a car I didn’t recognize, flanked by professionals who spoke softly but moved with precision.
Richard stood on the porch, frantic, his phone clutched uselessly in his hand.
When he saw me, confusion flickered across his face, followed by forced confidence.
“You can’t be here,” he snapped. “This is my property.”
“No,” I said calmly. “It isn’t.”
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