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When we returned, our world lay on the grass.
Garbage bags were scattered across the grass. Toys, clothes, books—Ava's pink blanket was tangled in the bushes.
She cried. Noah stood there, stunned. The house key no longer fit.
I banged on the door. Eleanor opened it, satisfied.
"You are not welcome here. This house belongs to me. Take your brats and leave."
“This is our home,” I said with a trembling voice.
"It was my son's. Unless you have a lawyer in your diaper bag, good luck."
She slammed the door.
That night, I turned the back seat of our car into a "camping trip." Ava cried herself to sleep. Noah whispered:
“Dad wouldn’t allow that.”
“And I won’t,” I said, holding him tight.
But Jason had already protected us.
The next morning, I called Jason's lawyer.
"She did what?" David almost shouted. "Come in. Now."
As it turned out, Jason had updated his will six months before the accident. He had left everything to me and the children—our house, his savings, everything.
But one sentence was unforgettable:
"Eleanor Dawson shall receive $200,000 unless she attempts to evict my wife and children or interfere in their affairs. In that case, the full amount will go to Mira and the children."
David looked at me and smiled.
“She just lost everything.”
We went straight to court. Eleanor acted complacent, portraying her actions as "preserving Jason's legacy."
The judge didn't flinch.
"You had no right to vacate the apartment or change the locks," he said. "Vacate the property by 5 p.m. today."
In front of the courthouse she hissed:
“It’s not over yet.”
David leaned forward:
"Actually, yes. She doesn't know she's forfeited the inheritance."
Love left behind locks, letters, and protection.
That evening, we returned with a locksmith. New locks. Improved security.
Eleanor's belongings were neatly packed and placed on the side of the road.
She arrived just in time to see it.
“This is my son’s house!” she screamed.
“That he left us,” I answered calmly.
She called the police. They came, listened, and calmly told her:
"Ma'am, this is now private property. You have committed an unlawful eviction."
Nevertheless, she threw one last arrow: "You turned him against me. You and your bastard children."
I didn't flinch. I looked her straight in the eyes. "No, Eleanor. You did this. Jason loved us—and he made sure we were okay."
"What are you talking about?"
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