When Jason’s estranged parents appeared out of the blue, demanding the house he had left behind, Alice found herself caught in a battle she never anticipated. Grieving and determined, she agreed to consider their claim—but only if they could answer the one question that had haunted Jason until his final days.
Some moments in life change everything, and for Jason and me, that moment came when we were just 17. I’ll never forget the day he showed up at my door, eyes red from crying, carrying nothing but a backpack and a broken heart. His parents had thrown him out, offering no reason, as if he were nothing. My mom didn’t hesitate; she took one look at him and knew. From that day on, Jason became a part of our family.
We leaned on each other through the awkward years of high school and the challenges of college. I pursued a career in HR because I enjoyed figuring people out, while Jason was a genius with computers, always making sense of things I couldn’t. We were a perfect team, balancing each other out. But four years ago, life dealt us a devastating blow.
Jason was diagnosed with bone cancer. It felt like the universe decided we’d had too many good years and needed to even the score. But we stayed strong. I took on more work, managed the mortgage on the house Jason had bought, and kept us afloat. Jason, in his quiet, stubborn way, clung to the hope that his parents might come around. But they never did.
Jason’s funeral was barely a month ago, and I was still drowning in grief when his family showed up. The same people who had abandoned him when he needed them most were now standing on my doorstep, acting as if they had every right to be there. I opened the door with my heart in my throat, not knowing what to expect—but I certainly wasn’t expecting this.
Susan, Jason’s mom, greeted me with a fake sweetness that made my skin crawl. “Alice, dear,” she began, her voice dripping with insincerity, “we were so sorry to hear about Jason. It must be so difficult for you, living here all alone.” I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. What could I possibly say to her? She wasn’t here for Jason—she never had been.
Charles, his dad, didn’t waste any time. “We need to talk about the house,” he said, his tone cold and businesslike. “Jason was our son, and this house should be ours now.” The words hit me like a punch to the gut. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“What do you mean, ‘yours’? Jason bought this house, and I’ve been paying the mortgage. It’s in my name.”
Their lawyer, who had been standing silently by, finally spoke. “Legally speaking,” he said, his voice smooth and practiced, “as Jason’s next of kin, his parents have a rightful claim to the property. Without a will, the law generally favors the immediate family.”
“You think you can just come in here, after all this time, and take his house? You didn’t care about him when he was alive, and now you want what was his?” Susan’s face hardened, the façade cracking just a little.
“Alice, we’re his family. Blood is thicker than water. Jason would have wanted us to have this house, to keep it in the family.”
I felt anger bubbling inside me, but I forced myself to stay calm. “Jason put this house in my name over a year ago, after he got sick. We knew this might happen, and we made sure everything was legal. You don’t have a claim here. If you want this house, you can buy it from me for the price I paid Jason, plus the four years of mortgage payments I’ve made.”
Charles stepped forward, his voice low and threatening. “You know we can’t afford that, you selfish little—” He stopped himself. “Jason would’ve wanted us to have this house. You transfer the mortgage to our name, and we’ll take over the payments. That’s my best offer. We’ll fight you in court if we have to.”
I met his gaze, refusing to back down. “Do what you have to, Charles. But before you go charging into court, there’s something you should know.”
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