one?”
She gasped at the sight of me and my suitcase. “Oh, my God, what happened?”
I gave her a tight smile. “Daniel made a mistake.”
Then I dialed my lawyer.
Margaret quickly ushered me inside. “Come in, dear, you’re freezing. What’s going on?”
I set my suitcase down and offered a weary smile. “Oh, just a bit of family trouble.”
She scoffed. “That boy always seemed ungrateful to me. Let me make you some tea.”
As she hurried into the kitchen, I picked up the phone and dialed the number my late husband’s friend had given me months ago.
After two rings, a deep voice answered. “Elliot speaking.”
“Elliot, it’s me,” I said, gripping the receiver. “It happened.”
There was a pause. Then his voice sharpened. “He threw you out?”
“This morning,” I confirmed. “Suitcase packed and everything.”
“That ungrateful little—” He cut himself off with a sigh. “Alright, listen carefully. Do you remember that clause I had you include when you signed the house over?”
For the first time that day, I smiled. “Of course I remember.”
Months earlier, when I was still recovering, Elliot had visited me. Daniel had been playing the perfect grandson—attentive, caring, responsible. And in my vulnerability, I had trusted him enough to sign over the house.
But Elliot had seen what I hadn’t.
“You need protection,” he had said. “We’ll put in a contingency clause. If he ever forces you out or fails to provide you with a home, the deed reverts back to you. No loopholes.”
Daniel, in his arrogance, had never bothered to read the fine print.
Elliot’s voice brought me back. “I’ll file the paperwork today. Legally, the house is yours again. Give it a few hours, and you can walk right back in.”
Warmth spread through me—nothing to do with the tea Margaret placed in front of me.
