*After I refused to give my mom my inheritance, she invited me to a family meeting. When I arrived, they had lawyers ready to force me to sign it over. But the moment they handed me the papers, I smiled and said: . «Funny, I brought someone too»

That’s who I’m honoring. Then Mason stood. Everyone froze.

Even Craig. I didn’t know, Mason said quietly, about the cruise or the spa, or that you used my name to take money from him. He looked at Mom.

You said Francis was selfish, but you lied. About everything. Mason, sit down, she snapped.

No. The word hit like a bell. He turned to me.

Can I come with you? I nodded. Let’s go. Craig stepped forward, chest puffed.

You little— I raised my phone. This conversation’s been recorded. He stopped cold.

We left in silence, passing the stunned faces of a family that had always assumed I’d bend. Not this time. Angela was already out of her car when we stepped onto the driveway.

You okay? she asked, eyeing Mason. He’s with me, I said. And we’re done here.

Behind us, the door slammed so hard, the porch light flickered. But for once, I didn’t look back. Mason didn’t speak much on the ride back.

He sat in the passenger seat, staring straight ahead, his fingers occasionally tightening around the seatbelt. When we reached my apartment, he followed me inside without asking if he could stay. He already knew.

You’re on the couch, I said. It folds out. Sheets are clean.

He nodded. Thanks. We didn’t talk about what happened.

Not that night. We just sat in the quiet. I made tea.

He drank it. I scrolled through emails. He stared at the ceiling.

The silence wasn’t heavy. It was healing. By morning, I had a plan.

I returned to Grandpa’s house, the one I now legally owned, but hadn’t touched since the funeral. I unlocked the front door, the air stale with memory and dust. I went straight to his study.

The smell of old paper, cedar, and coffee grounds still lingered. His desk was exactly as he left it. I opened the center drawer and found the journal…