Daniel’s expression hardened.

“Then what exactly do you expect us to do?”

“Nothing. I’m staying in my home.”

He looked at Melissa.

Then he pointed toward the stairs.

“If you refuse to go, then pack your bags and get out of **my house**.”

My house.

For several seconds, nobody spoke.

Even Melissa’s smile disappeared.

Then I quietly walked upstairs.

Daniel apparently thought he had won.

I pulled a suitcase from my closet and began packing.

Clothes.

Medication.

Jewelry.

Important documents.

A photograph of my late husband.

And finally, from the bottom drawer of my dresser, I removed the thick folder containing the records for the house.

I placed it carefully inside my suitcase.

When I came downstairs, Melissa opened the front door for me.

Neither of them offered to carry my bag.

I stepped onto the porch and set the suitcase beside my feet.

Then we heard an engine.

A long black limousine turned onto our street.

It slowed directly in front of my house.

And stopped.

Daniel frowned.

“Who is that?”

I said nothing.

The driver walked around and opened the rear door.

A silver-haired man in a charcoal suit stepped onto the pavement.

Daniel’s face immediately changed.

“Mr. Bennett?”

Arthur Bennett had been my late husband’s attorney for twenty-six years.

After my husband died, Arthur became mine.

He walked toward me.

“Margaret, are you all right?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to leave?”

I looked at the house.

Then at my son.

“Yes.”

Arthur nodded.

“The apartment is ready.”

Melissa’s eyes narrowed.

“What apartment?”

“The one I’m staying in.”

Daniel stared at me.

“You already arranged somewhere to go?”

I smiled faintly.

While packing upstairs, I hadn’t surrendered.

I had made two phone calls.

One to Arthur.

And another to my bank.

Arthur opened his leather case.

“My client has instructed me to make certain that her finances and property are protected.”

Daniel laughed nervously.

“Protected from whom?”

Arthur didn’t answer.

He didn’t need to.

I opened my suitcase and handed him the property folder.

Arthur removed the deed.

Melissa folded her arms.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to prove.”

“Nothing needs proving,” Arthur replied.

Then he looked directly at her.

“The property belongs to Margaret Lawson.”

Daniel’s face reddened.

“This is a family matter.”

Arthur remained calm.

“It stopped being merely a family disagreement when money was removed from my client’s account without authorization and she was ordered to leave property she owns.”

Then Arthur said:

“Margaret has made a decision.”

Daniel looked at me.

“What decision?”

“I’m leaving.”

For half a second, relief crossed Melissa’s face.

“So that’s it?”

Arthur looked at her.

“No.”

Her smile vanished.

I faced my son.

“You and Melissa have thirty days to find somewhere else to live.”

Daniel went completely still.

“Mom… where are we supposed to go?”

Four years earlier, he had stood on this same porch asking whether his family could stay with me.

I had opened my door without hesitation.

Now he was asking me where he should go after ordering me out of my own home.

“I don’t know,” I said quietly. “But you have thirty days to figure it out.”

Melissa’s expression hardened.

“You can’t just throw your grandchildren out.”

“I’m not. Their parents are responsible for providing them a home.”

She stared at me.