My dad disowned me by text the day before my graduation because I didn’t invite his new wife’s two children. My mother, brother, and three aunts all took his side. Ten years later,

The typing dots appeared immediately. Disappeared. Then came back.

Then my phone rang again.

This time, I picked up.

“Emily,” he said, breathless, his voice thinner than I remembered. “This is not the time for games.”

“Funny,” I replied. “That’s exactly what I was told the day before graduation.”

He exhaled sharply. “I need you to sign a transfer affidavit. Today. There’s a closing at noon.”

“A closing for what?”

Silence.

Then, cautiously, “Your grandfather’s property.”

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