“You’re lying,” she spat. “You forged this.”
I slid the notarized deed across the table.
“Try again.”
She skimmed it, hands trembling, then shoved it back.
“You can’t do this. This isn’t just yours. It’s family property.”
“It was Dad’s property,” I said evenly. “And he gave it to me. He knew what you’d do if you got your hands on it. Sell it to the highest bidder, tear apart the land he and Rose swore to protect.”
Megan slammed her palm on the table.
“You don’t get it. This money could change everything. Our lives, our children’s lives. And you’re wasting it on some charity fantasy.”
I leaned forward, voice low and steady.
“Not a fantasy. A foundation. The Whitmore Veterans and Women Foundation. This land will build something lasting, something that helps people instead of lining your pockets.”
Mom gasped softly.
