Michael scoffed.
“We’re not here for some story. This land is being sold. There’s a mining offer. Twenty million.”
I watched the people behind Maggie glance toward us.
Some froze mid-task.
A woman pulled a child closer.
Fear moved through the ranch like a shadow.
Thomas, suddenly nervous, tucked himself behind me.
“Mr. James said we could stay forever,” he murmured.
Michael’s voice sharpened.
“Dad has been dead for six months. And this land isn’t his alone. My mother owns it, too.”
“Yes,” Maggie said, businesslike now. “Which is why we waited.”
She reached into her pocket and brought out a key ring.
“James left instructions. There are things he wanted your mother to see. When she was ready.”
Michael’s eyes narrowed.
“This is trespassing. We should call the sheriff.”
My voice came out steadier than I expected.
“Michael. Please. Give me one hour.”
“Mom—”
“One hour,” I repeated. “Then we’ll talk.”
He hesitated, then gave a tight nod and stepped back toward his car.
Maggie turned to me gently.
“Come inside,” she said. “There’s something upstairs you need to see first.”
My feet moved before my mind agreed.
Because some part of me already knew:
James didn’t come back here three times a year.
He came back much more than that.
And whatever he built… he built it without me.
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