The room fell silent, the weight of those words hanging in the air like a dense fog. Kevin’s bravado crumbled as confusion etched itself onto his face. He sputtered, attempting to regain his footing, but the certainty in Mr. Henderson’s voice held him in check.
“What do you mean?” Kevin stammered, desperation seeping into his voice. “Dad told me… he said…”
Mr. Henderson raised a hand, silencing him. “Your father transferred ownership of this house to your mother three years ago. It was his wish to ensure she had security in her later years.”
Kevin stumbled back, disbelief widening his eyes. The scotch glass slipped from his fingers and shattered on the floor, mirroring the fracturing of his assumed authority.
Martha stood in the doorway, her frailty overshadowed by the quiet strength of justice and truth. Her heart, fragile yet resilient, beat with renewed vigor as she stepped into her home. It was warm inside, the air heavy with memories of a life built with love and sacrifice.
Jessica, who had been watching from the sidelines, stood up, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She glanced at Kevin, who was now grappling with the harsh reality of his misjudgment.
“You can’t do this,” Kevin insisted, his voice cracking as he looked from his mother to the officers. “This is my house!”
