When Grandma passed, I expected the farm to be mine. But instead, it went to my cousin Felicity, who only saw dollar signs.
I received a cryptic letter and the right to stay for now. The lawyer read the will, and Felicity got everything—despite barely spending any time on the farm.
Grandma’s will did, however, have a twist: I could stay as long as I wanted, and after three months, more would be revealed. As I cared for the farm,
the animals, and the land, I found comfort in its rhythms. Jack, a local friend, helped me fix things when they broke. Then, a fire destroyed the farmhouse.
Felicity immediately suggested selling, but I refused to leave—it was my home, my inheritance, no matter what the papers said. Three months later,
