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Mr. Abernathy removed his glasses. “Your father was a smart man, Olivia. And he loved you very much. He wanted to make sure you were protected.”
A memory surfaced — Dad taking me to brunch a few months back. He’d been so serious when he told me he’d “updated” his will. I hadn’t thought much of it then.

Mr. Abernathy smiled. “That depends. How do you feel about teaching your stepmother a lesson?”
I sat up straighter. “I’m listening.”
***
For three weeks, I stayed quiet. I let Carla believe she’d won. She settled in, probably redecorating, and erasing any trace of Dad and me from those rooms.
Then Mr. Abernathy filed the paperwork to formally claim the house from the trust.
Carla was served the legal papers at 9 a.m. on a Tuesday. My phone rang at 9:15 a.m.
“HOW DARE YOU…?” Her voice was shrill through the speaker.
I hung up without a word and blocked her number.
Three weeks of legal back-and-forth later, the judge ruled in my favor, and Carla had 30 days to vacate.
But she ignored the ruling.
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