Two days after the funeral, I took the kids out to distract them—a quiet park picnic, just the three of us.
Trash bags spilled over the grass. Toys, clothes, books—Ava’s pink blanket tangled in the bushes.
She cried. Noah stood still, stunned. The house key no longer fit.
I pounded on the door. Eleanor opened it, satisfied.
“You’re not welcome here. This house is mine. Take your brats and go.”
“This is our home,” I said, my voice shaking.
“It was my son’s. Unless you’ve got a lawyer in your diaper bag, good luck.”
She slammed the door.
That night, I turned the back seat of our car into a “camping trip.” Ava cried herself to sleep. Noah whispered:
“And I won’t either,” I said, holding him close.
But Jason Had Already Protected Us
The next morning, I called Jason’s attorney.
“She did what?” David nearly shouted. “Come in. Now.”
It turns out, six months before the accident, Jason had updated his will. He’d left everything to me and the kids—our home, his savings, all of it.
But one clause was unforgettable:
“Eleanor Dawson is to receive $200,000—unless she attempts to evict or interfere with my wife and children. If she does, the full amount transfers to Mira and the kids.”
David looked at me and smiled.
We went straight to court. Eleanor showed up smug, spinning her actions as “preserving Jason’s legacy.”
The judge didn’t flinch.
“You had no legal right to evict or change the locks,” he said. “Vacate the property by 5 p.m. today.”
Outside the courthouse, she hissed,
“This isn’t over.”
David leaned in:
“Actually, it is. She doesn’t know she just forfeited the inheritance.”
