Her longtime attorney, Evelyn Porter, stood nearby, explaining the structure of the trust while my mother signed the final pages.
At the time, the legal details barely made sense to me, but one thing had been clear.
The house would always be mine.
My phone buzzed on the desk, pulling me back to the present.
A message from Diana lit up the screen. “I already told the local police you are not allowed on the property. Do not embarrass yourself by trying to break in.”
I stared at the text for a moment before forwarding it to Evelyn with a brief explanation.
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