"I HAVE SOLD YOUR HOUSE TO TEACH YOU A LESSON IN RESPECT," MY STEPMOTHER MOCKED OVER THE PHONE. "THE NEW OWNERS WILL BE MOVING IN NEXT WEEK."I SMIRKED, RECALLING MY SECRET MEETING WITH MY LATE FATHER'S LAWYER."BEST OF LUCK WITH THAT," I RESPONDED.SHE HAD NO CLUE ABOUT WHAT WAS ABOUT TO HAPPEN...The call came on a quiet Tuesday morning, cutting through my usual routine of coffee and emails.When I saw Rebecca’s name flash across my screen, a familiar tension settled in my chest. Conversations with her were never pleasant.I exhaled slowly and answered, keeping my voice neutral. “Hello, Rebecca.I’ve sold the house,” she announced without preamble, her tone thick with satisfaction. “The papers are signed. The new owners move in next week. I hope you’ve learned your lesson about respecting your elders.My grip on the coffee mug tightened. The house she was so smugly referring to was my childhood home—the one my father had left me when he passed away two years ago.Or at least, that’s what Rebecca thought.The house?” I repeated, forcing amusement from my voice. “You mean Dad’s house?Don’t play dumb, Olivia,” she snapped. “You know exactly which house—the one you’ve been squatting in rent-free since your father died. Well, that ends now. I found buyers who actually appreciate the property.I took a slow sip of coffee, letting her words settle. She had no idea about my meeting with Dad’s lawyer, Mr. Harrison, just days after the funeral. No idea about the documents we’d signed. No idea that the house wasn’t hers to sell.That’s interesting,” I said, keeping my tone light. “And you’re sure everything’s legal?”
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