But grief did not require surrender.
“What happens now?” I asked.
Martin closed the folder. “The buyers take possession according to the agreement. Brandon and Amber receive formal notice. If they refuse to vacate, it becomes a civil matter.”
“And Halden?”
“That depends on how patient they are.”
As if summoned by the name, my phone buzzed again.
Unknown number.
Then a text appeared.
I picked it up before Martin could stop me.
The message had no greeting.
Mr. Reeves, we should speak before your son creates further complications.
I showed it to Martin.
He read it twice.
His expression changed.
“Do not respond,” he said.
But I was already looking at the next message as it arrived.
Your son gave us your address too.
For a moment, the room disappeared.
Not because I was afraid.
Because I finally understood the size of the mess Brandon had made.
He had not merely insulted me. He had not merely struck me. He had dragged my name into rooms where men did not care about birthday dinners, apologies, or fatherhood. He had used my life’s work like poker chips.
