Page 3 — “For This Farm.” The Moment I Knew I Was Next
Paul sounded uneasy.
“What does this have to do with us?”
Natalie didn’t miss a beat.
“Everything,” she said. “Eight thousand a month for Meadowbrook. Memory care surcharge if she declines. In ten years she’s gone anyway — and at least some of that money stays in the family.”
Paul murmured, almost like he was convincing himself it was rational.
“For our future…”
And then Natalie said it.
“For this farm.”
I felt my lungs forget how to work.
My farm.
The land my husband and I bled for.
The trees we planted.
The porch where I rocked my babies.
Natalie’s tone turned practical, almost bored.
“Your mom’s struggling. Taxes. Maintenance. She’s got maybe fifty grand in savings. This property is worth at least eight hundred thousand. It’s development land. She won’t need it much longer.”
Paul tried a weak objection.
“Mom loves this land.”
Natalie responded softly — the soft that’s more dangerous than yelling.
“She won’t have to choose. When she’s declared incompetent, we choose for her.”
I didn’t breathe. I didn’t move.
Because in that instant, I understood the strategy:
- Use Joanna as the “practice run.”
- Prove they can win guardianship.
- Then do the same thing to me.
Read what I found in my basement that proved this wasn’t just talk — and why I realized I had less than 24 hours 👇
