My mom slid a listing across the table. “We’re selling. You have 60 days to leave.” My sister hit record: “Finally. Good luck, loser.” I drove to the lawyer with the envelope Grandma left me. He read one line… and locked the door. “Ms. Somers,” he said: “You need to sit down.”
Chapter 2: The Geography of Deception The drive from Ashgrove to the county seat of Millbrook took forty minutes through winding two-lane roads, dense loblolly pines, and dormant tobacco fields. Usually, the drive calmed...