During the legal proceedings, I learned things about my father that further solidified my respect for him. His colleagues and friends came forward, recounting how he had meticulously planned his affairs. He had also written letters for me, stored with Mr. Abernathy, each one a piece of his heart and wisdom, guiding me through the trials that he knew I would face.
In the end, the court upheld the trust. Carla was ordered to vacate the premises, and the house was legally recognized as mine. The day I returned to my childhood home, the key fitting perfectly into the lock, was bittersweet. The silence of the house was deafening, yet the walls spoke of safety and love.
