“Yes, I do.”
“You’re stuck. You can’t drive anywhere. You can’t call anyone. Eventually, you’ll run out of food. Eventually, you’ll realize I have the advantage.”
“You’re my son,” I said quietly. “Do you hear yourself?”
“This is only happening because you refused to be reasonable.”
“No, Michael. This is happening because you believe wanting something gives you the right to take it.”
His face hardened.
“You’ll sign.”
“No.”
“It’s only a matter of time.”
He turned and walked back to the concrete truck.
I watched him climb into the cab and sit behind the steering wheel. From there, he had a clear view of my house.
He was waiting for me to break.
He believed fear, loneliness, and desperation would eventually force me to surrender.
What he did not understand was what the property meant to me.
What he did not understand was that I would rather lose every convenience I had than willingly hand Margaret’s home to someone who was treating me with such contempt.
