I was folding baby blankets when I heard it. There was pounding and screaming. I rushed to the front door.
Veronica and Mike were outside, furious, pounding on the wood like maniacs. I stood frozen in the hallway, clutching my phone to my chest as their voices echoed through the door, each word laced with venom. “You don’t deserve this house!” Veronica shrieked.
“It’s mine! He loved me!”
I didn’t even open the door. I called the police immediately.
They arrived in minutes. Veronica and Mike were arrested on the spot for trespassing, intimidation, and harassment. She fought the whole way, still yelling about what she was owed.
But she wasn’t owed anything. That night, I sat in the living room, barefoot, wrapped in a cozy blanket with the deed in my lap. I couldn’t stop touching the paper, like it was proof I wasn’t dreaming.
The house was quiet, safe, and mine. I looked up at the ceiling and whispered, “You really thought of everything, didn’t you?”
He had. Even when I doubted, even when I gave up, my dad had a plan.
A quiet, steady, brilliant plan to protect me and his grandchildren from a woman who only ever saw us as obstacles. The twins were born a week later — two healthy girls with Ethan’s green eyes and my nose. I named them Lily and Grace.
Some nights, when they sleep on either side of me, I think about everything that’s happened. The love I lost, the home I fought for, and the man who protected me until his last breath. Veronica never came back.
The last I heard, she and Mike were caught up in some fraud investigation in another state. I don’t care anymore because she’s no longer part of my story. But my dad is.
Ethan is. And my girls are. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s this: when people come at you with greed and cruelty, stand your ground.
Continue reading…
