“It matters to me.”
Brooke was staring at Ryan now rather than at me.
The smile she had worn during his jokes was gone.
Dad reached for the amendment again.
Mr.
Hollis pulled it back.
“You may review copies after I finish.”
“I’m her son.”
“And I am administering her signed documents.”
Dad’s hand remained suspended over the table for a moment before he withdrew it.
The restraint cost him visibly.
“What about everything else?” Ryan demanded.
Mr.
Hollis turned several pages.
Margaret had not handed me the entire estate.
That mattered.
She had been deliberate, not vindictive.
The three houses were mine through the trust.
Her remaining estate, after debts, expenses and specific gifts, was to be divided according to the final plan between Ryan and me rather than placed under Dad’s control.
Dad had no authority to redirect my share to Ryan.
Ryan had no automatic claim to everything because he was firstborn.
And the family name had no legal power at all.
The room seemed to absorb those facts one by one.
Dad tried to recover.
“Fine,” he said.
“Then Olivia can sign the houses over to Ryan after the estate closes.”
There it was.
Not a request.
An instruction.
He looked at me with the absolute certainty of a man who had spent years believing that my obedience was simply delayed, never withdrawn.
“You don’t want to manage rentals,” he continued.
“You’re never here.
Ryan understands the business.
This is the sensible solution.”
Ryan nodded immediately.
“We can structure it so you get something.”
Something.
Three minutes earlier he had offered me a loan with interest.
Now he was offering me a portion of property that had just been confirmed as mine.
I looked at him.
“How much?”
His expression brightened because he mistook the question for negotiation.
“We’d have to run numbers.”
Brooke leaned toward him.
“Ryan.”
He waved her off.
Dad stepped closer to me.
“This does not need to become ugly.”
I almost laughed.
Thirty people had watched him announce that I deserved nothing because the military had already taken care of me.
Thirty people had watched my brother mock my paycheck.
Thirty people had applauded.
And now Dad wanted to prevent ugliness.
“I’m not signing them over,” I said.
His expression went flat.
“You haven’t even thought about it.”
