When I circled back to the cabin, I found Jack sitting on the porch steps. He looked up at me.
“You ready for this?”
I met his eyes.
“I’ve been ready my whole life.”
The decision came to me as clear as any mission order. I wasn’t going to hide behind lawyers forever. If Megan wanted a fight, she could look me in the eye and take her best shot. And Mom, she needed to see which daughter actually stood on solid ground.
So I called them both and said, “Dinner at the cabin tomorrow night, seven sharp.”
Mom hesitated.
“Is this wise, Hannah?”
“Megan wants answers. I’ll give her some.”
The line was quiet. Then Megan’s voice cut in from the background, smug as ever.
“Fine, we’ll be there.”
The next day, I cleaned the place like it was inspection day on base. I laid out Dad’s documents in neat piles on the kitchen counter. The deed, the surveys, the mineral reports, all with Robert Chen’s notarizations, proof stacked higher than Megan’s ego.
Then I cooked, not because I cared what Megan thought of my cooking, but because Dad would have wanted his table full, not empty. A pot roast, potatoes, bread from the bakery in town. By 6:30, the cabin smelled like a real home.
At exactly 7, headlights cut across the trees. Megan’s white Lexus crunched up the drive, Mom in the passenger seat.
I watched from the porch as Megan strutted toward the door, heels clicking on gravel, cream-colored dress like she was attending a business closing. Mom followed, looking tired but polished, her pearls as rigid as ever.
“Nice little place,” Megan said as she stepped inside, eyes scanning every corner like a buyer on a house tour. “Still drafty.”
I ignored the jab.
“Sit down. Dinner’s ready.”
Then we ate in tense silence at first. Mom tried small talk about the weather, about Albany traffic, but it fell flat. Megan was too busy looking around, cataloging furniture, staring at the old photo of Dad and Grandma Rose on the mantle.
Finally, she leaned back in her chair, smirking.
“So, what’s the big plan, Hannah? Going to tell us you painted the porch and now you’re queen of the Adirondacks?”
I set my fork down calmly.
“I’m going to tell you the truth. The truth Dad left for me, not for you.”
Her smirk faltered slightly, but she recovered fast.
“Enlighten us.”
I stood, walked to the counter, and brought the metal box to the table. Slowly, deliberately, I placed the geological survey in front of her.
“Read it.”
She snatched it up, eyes flicking across the page. Her confident smile slipped.
“This says…”
She stopped, cleared her throat, tried again.
“This says there are lithium deposits under this property worth tens of millions.”
“That’s right,” I said. “And Dad made me the sole owner. He trusted me with this. Not you, not Mom. Me.”
The silence that followed was so thick I could hear the clock ticking on the mantle. Mom looked stricken, her hands twisting in her lap. Megan’s face flushed red, anger boiling through her mask.
“You’re lying,” she spat. “You forged this.”
I slid the notarized deed across the table.
“Try again.”
She skimmed it, hands trembling, then shoved it back.
“You can’t do this. This isn’t just yours. It’s family property.”
“It was Dad’s property,” I said evenly. “And he gave it to me. He knew what you’d do if you got your hands on it. Sell it to the highest bidder, tear apart the land he and Rose swore to protect.”
Megan slammed her palm on the table.
“You don’t get it. This money could change everything. Our lives, our children’s lives. And you’re wasting it on some charity fantasy.”
