Everything I built.
And she was calling me stupid.
My chest tightened.
“We just need to be patient,” Leah continued. “Once we get her declared incompetent—and believe me, that won’t be hard—everything transfers to Benjamin. And what’s Benjamin’s is mine.”
She laughed again.
“I know, right? All I had to do was marry her pathetic son and wait for her to die. But honestly, she’s taking too long. We might need to speed things up.”
Pathetic son.
She’s taking too long.
Speed things up.
I stopped the recording, set my phone down, and stared at the wall.
My son’s wife was planning to steal everything I’d built, and my son—my son—was letting her.
But what I discovered over the next six months would be far worse.
Over the next six months, I documented everything. Every insult. Every phone call. Every conversation where Leah talked about “when Grace is gone” or “once we get control of her properties” or “she won’t last much longer anyway.”
She kept saying it.
“She’s taking too long.”
Like I was a problem that needed solving.
I documented Benjamin, too—the way he’d nod along, the way he’d say, “Whatever you think is best, babe,” the way he never, not once, defended me.
I saved it all, backed it up, made copies, gave copies to Melanie, gave copies to Mr. Harper.
By December 2024, I had hours of footage—proof my family was trying to rob me, trying to steal everything I’d built, everything I’d worked for.
And I knew exactly when I was going to show them.
New Year’s Eve.
The night Leah loved talking about.
New beginnings.
Fresh starts.
Out with the old, in with the new.
Let’s give her a new beginning she’d never forget.
But first, I had to survive what happened in October.
On October 15th, 2024, my attorney called.
