Charles stepped forward, his voice menacing. “We can’t afford that. Transfer the mortgage to us. Otherwise, we’ll take you to court.”
I met his gaze, my voice steady. “Do what you must, but first, there’s something you need to see.”
I retrieved an envelope from a drawer—a letter Jason had written before he died. I handed it to Susan, watching as she opened it with trembling hands. Charles and their lawyer leaned in, eager for what they thought would be their victory.
But as Susan read, her face shifted. The hope drained from their eyes. Jason’s letter wasn’t what they had expected.
“I’m sorry,” Jason had written, “that I wasn’t the son you wanted. I’ve learned to forgive you for the pain you caused me, and I hope you can forgive yourselves, too. I wish things had been different, but I’ve made peace with what is.”
The room fell into suffocating silence. Finally, Susan looked up, grief and frustration painted on her face. “This… this isn’t what we expected,” she whispered.
I smiled bitterly. “No, it isn’t. You thought you could claim what wasn’t yours, but all Jason left you was forgiveness. Honestly, it’s more than you deserve.”
Charles clenched his fists, fury in his voice. “You think you’re better than us? Pretending you were the only one who cared about him?”
I stood my ground, meeting his anger with calm resolve. “No, Charles. But I was there for him. I gave him the love you withheld. If you want this house, you’ll have to give me something Jason never got: an honest answer.”
They froze, their anger faltering. I pressed on.
“Why did you abandon your son? Why did you ignore his attempts to reconcile? Answer those questions, and I’ll consider your claim. If not, you have no right to anything he left behind.”
Their lawyer shifted uncomfortably. Susan looked away, and Charles struggled to find words. Finally, Susan murmured, “He didn’t want to do what we wanted, and we thought… we thought it was better for him to live without us.”
Her explanation was as hollow as their claim to Jason’s love.
I shook my head. “That’s not enough. It never will be.”
The lawyer cleared his throat. “I think it’s best we leave. There’s nothing more to pursue here.”
Defeated, they turned and left without a word. I watched them drive away, the weight of the confrontation settling on me.
As I locked the door, I felt both sadness and relief. Jason was gone, but I had protected his memory and his legacy. The house was ours—his and mine—and within these walls, his love and courage would live on.
For me, that was enough. For them, it would have to be.