something else: fear.
“We’re not done,” he muttered.
“No,” I said. “We’re not. But you will not take what’s mine.”
At last, he turned away. Linda followed. Evan lingered a second, staring at the house like it owed him something, then climbed into the truck.
As they drove away, the rumble faded into the distance until only the wind remained.
The quiet felt different after that.
Not lonely.
Defensive.
Like a line drawn.
Two days later, Linda left a voicemail that sounded like she was trying to sound reasonable.
“Olivia,” she said softly, “your father isn’t telling the whole truth. Evan is in deeper trouble than you know. Debt. Drinking. People he owes. They pressured your father. He thought if Evan got the land, he could use it as collateral. Your father is embarrassed, but he’s scared.”
Collateral.
So that was it. Not just a fresh start. A lifeline. A pawn.
And I was expected to be the sacrifice again.
Dad called repeatedly after that. I let most of them go to voicemail until exhaustion wore me down and I answered.
“You need to stop whatever legal action you’re taking,” he snapped.
