After four years of silence, my son showed up at my door—not with an apology, but with a lawyer, demanding that I leave my own home. What he didn’t know was that his lawyer, who happened to be my high school sweetheart, had a plan that would change everything.
It had been four long years since I’d last seen Brian. Not a single call or text. When his father passed away, Brian took what he wanted—his dad’s car, watches, and cash—and disappeared without a word. No goodbye, no explanation, just gone.
Brian hadn’t always been like this. He used to be kind, but after his father’s death, he became distant. While my husband’s illness had prepared us for his passing, when the time came, it shattered both of us. Brian withdrew, refusing to express any grief or check on me. Instead, he grabbed whatever he could and left. I was too heartbroken to stop him, and after that, it was just me and the memories in the house my husband had left behind. I learned to live without Brian, assuming he was gone for good.
But I never expected his return—and certainly not like this.
When I opened the door yesterday and saw him, my heart leapt. For a brief moment, I thought he had come to make amends. I smiled, hopeful. But that hope faded fast when I noticed the man beside him, a lawyer with a briefcase in hand. Brian’s face was cold, showing no warmth or regret.
“This is my attorney,” he said flatly. “I’m giving you until tomorrow to vacate the house, or we’ll take this to court.”
I was stunned. Vacate? My house? The home I had shared with his father and taken care of all these years? I looked at the lawyer, trying to understand. His face was unreadable, but there was something familiar about him. Then, as our eyes met, he gave me the tiniest wink. It caught me off guard.
I turned back to Brian, trying to steady my voice. “You’re suing me for my own home?”
“That’s right,” he said smugly. “It’s mine now. You’ve had your time.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Before I could respond, the lawyer spoke up. “I think it’s best if I have a private conversation with your mother before we move forward,” he suggested, looking at Brian.
Brian shrugged, clearly confident. “Fine. Five minutes,” he muttered, walking back to his car.
As soon as Brian was out of earshot, the lawyer turned to me, his stern look softening. “Mary, it’s been a long time,” he said quietly.
The recognition hit me. “James?” I whispered in disbelief. He nodded, his eyes full of warmth. It was James, my high school sweetheart, standing here as Brian’s lawyer.
“It’s me,” he said with a small smile. “Don’t worry, I’m on your side. Let’s talk inside.”
Inside, James closed the door and sighed. “I can’t believe Brian is doing this to you, Mary. But trust me, we can stop him. He doesn’t know what he’s up against.”
Tears filled my eyes. “I don’t understand how it came to this. He used to be such a sweet boy. Now he wants to take my home, the house his father left me.”
James nodded sympathetically. “I know it’s hard to see your child make these choices, but Brian’s making a big mistake. He doesn’t realize how serious this could get for him. Let me take care of it. We’ll give him a wake-up call.”
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