You can work.
You can build. You can do what your father and I did instead of waiting for it to be handed to you.”
Megan scoffed.
“This isn’t over.”
“It is for me,” I said. I stepped into the hallway, past the woman who finally met my eyes and nodded like she understood exactly what had just happened.
That night, in my new kitchen with the late sun hitting the counter just right, I made tea and listened to Queens hum the way it always has—sirens outside, but none inside my chest.
I didn’t feel guilty. I felt finished. Some parents leave their children houses.
Some leave money.
I left my son a lesson he should have learned long before he tried to inherit me while I was still breathing. And for the first time in years, I slept knowing my life was no longer being planned without my permission.
