He nodded. “Anything you want.”
“Good. Get the check.”
He blinked. “Are we going home?”
I stood in my $12 wedding dress.
“No. We’re going to my parents’ house.”
“Are we going home?”
Mom opened the front door and froze.
“Savannah? Why are you dressed like that?”
“Let me in.”
I stepped past her. Dad saw Daniel and stood.
“What is he doing here?”
I pulled the letter from my purse and set it on the coffee table.
“Why are you dressed like that?”
“Tell me this is fake.”
Mom’s face changed.
She reached for the paper.
I snatched it back. “No. You answer first.”
Dad pointed at Daniel. “That mechanic is poisoning you against your family.”
“Daniel didn’t write Grandma’s name on this letter,” I said. “He didn’t hide a house from me. You did. So talk.”
Mom picked up her phone and began typing. “We were protecting you.”
“Tell me this is fake.”
“From owning a roof?”
Dad’s jaw tightened. “You were too young to handle property.”
“I’m old enough to marry a man you hate, but not old enough to own what Grandma left me?”
“You weren’t ready,” Mom whispered.
“When would I be ready? After Connor?”
She looked away.
“You were too young to handle property.”
There it was.
The truth sat in the silence.
I laughed once. It hurt coming out.
“You wanted me married to him before I found out I had options.”
Mom’s phone buzzed. Connor’s name lit up before she flipped it facedown.
“You called him?” I asked.
It hurt coming out.
Mom wiped under her eyes. “I didn’t know what else to do.”
“You called the man you wanted me to marry while I’m standing here in my wedding dress?”
Dad stepped between us. “He understands the situation.”
“No,” I said. “He understands control.”
The doorbell rang five minutes later.
“He understands the situation.”
Connor walked in calm and polished, like he’d come to handle a problem.
“Savannah,” he said. “Your mother was worried.”
“Of course she was.”
His eyes found the letter in my hand.
I lifted it. “You knew.”
Connor didn’t even blink. “I knew there were assets your parents were managing.”
“Assets,” I said. “You mean my grandmother’s house.”
“Your mother was worried.”
“A house can become a burden when someone isn’t prepared.”
That was when I saw him clearly.
“Funny,” I said. “Nobody called your penthouse a burden when you offered it to me.”
His jaw tightened. “Comfort isn’t a crime.”
“No. But trying to marry me before I found out I had choices isn’t love.”
Dad stepped forward. “You will not embarrass this family in front of my boss.”
“Comfort isn’t a crime.”
“You already embarrassed this family,” I said. “I’m done hiding it.”
Mom whispered, “We only wanted you safe.”
“Safe women know the truth, Mom.”
I picked up the letter.
“Tomorrow morning, I’m speaking to the attorney who signed this.”
Dad’s face darkened. “You will do no such thing.”
I walked to the door.
“Watch me.”
“We only wanted you safe.”
Outside, Daniel waited by the truck.
“I’m angry at you too,” I said.
“I know.”
“You should’ve trusted me.”
“I know.”
“I’m angry at you.”
The next morning, I sat across from an attorney with Grandma’s letter in my hands.
He read the letter, and his mouth went tight.
“You never saw this?” he asked.
“Not until last night.”
Daniel shifted beside me, but I lifted one hand.
The attorney nodded. “Your grandmother was clear. The house was yours at 25. The savings account was for repairs, taxes, and upkeep.”
“You never saw this?”
“Then how did my parents keep it?”
“They said they were helping with the paperwork because you were grieving.”
“And you believed them?”
His face softened. “At first, yes. Then they delayed. After that, they stopped responding.”
“Have they been renting it out?”
“Yes.”
“And keeping the rent?”
He paused. “That appears to be what happened.”
“You believed them?”
My stomach turned. “Can I get it back?”
“Yes. It may take paperwork, but the house was left to you.”
He slid a copy of the file toward me.
“Your grandmother added a note,” he said.
“What do I do first?” I asked.
“That’s the right question, Savannah.”
“Can I get it back?”
An hour later, Daniel parked across from Grandma’s old house.
The porch needed paint, but the swing was still there.
A woman next door lowered her watering can.
“I’m Savannah. My grandmother used to live here.”
Her face opened. “You’re her granddaughter?”
I nodded.
“You’re her granddaughter?”
“I lived across the road for years,” she said. “When this place went up for rent, I took it. Your grandmother was good to me. She talked about you like you hung the moon.”
Daniel came to stand beside me, quiet.
“I used to sit on that swing during storms,” I said. “Grandma told me loud things were usually just trying to sound bigger than they were.”
I looked at the front door.