Four long years had passed since I last heard from my son, Brian. Then, one afternoon, my doorbell rang, and there he stood—looking older, his face harder, his eyes colder. I felt my heart tighten, hoping maybe, just maybe, he had come to apologize. But that hope shattered as soon as I saw who stood beside him: a lawyer. Not just any lawyer—James, my high school sweetheart. The one who had once held my heart. But now, he was here as Brian’s lawyer, and he had come with a shocking demand.
“This is my attorney,” Brian said, his voice flat, not a hint of warmth in his tone. “You need to leave this house by tomorrow. If you don’t, we’ll take this to court.”
I stared at him in disbelief. “Leave my house?” The words barely formed on my lips. This was the house I had shared with my late husband. The place I’d poured my heart into over the years. How could my son, the boy I once held in my arms, be standing there demanding that I leave?
“You’re suing me for the house?” I whispered, still struggling to make sense of it.
“That’s right,” Brian said, his eyes cold. “It belongs to me now.”
The lawyer said nothing, but something about him tugged at my memory. I glanced at him, and he gave me a small, barely noticeable wink. My heart skipped as the recognition hit me like a wave. It was James. James, who had been my first love, the boy who once made me laugh and dream. And now, here he was, standing at my doorstep with the cold edge of a lawyer’s briefcase in his hand.
“James?” My voice was trembling.
He smiled softly, a distant memory flashing in his eyes. “It’s been a long time, Mary.”
I felt a rush of emotions—shock, confusion, and even a flicker of hope. But what was James doing here? Why was he working for Brian? Something didn’t add up.
“I think we should have a private conversation,” James said, turning to Brian. “Just for a few minutes to clear things up.”
Brian rolled his eyes and gave an impatient sigh. “Fine. Make it quick.”
As Brian walked away, James leaned in, lowering his voice. “I can’t believe how he’s treating you,” he said, his voice full of concern. “But don’t worry. We can stop him. He has no idea what he’s getting himself into.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “He wants to take my home, James. How did it come to this?”
James sighed, looking pained. “I know it’s hard. But trust me, he’s over his head. Let me handle it. We’ll show him the truth tomorrow.”
The next morning, James came by again, this time with a small gift—a bag of freshly ground coffee beans. “Thought we could start the day right with a good cup of coffee,” he said, flashing a familiar grin. We sat together in the kitchen, chatting about old memories, sharing small moments of comfort, as we waited for the confrontation with Brian.
When the time came, James pulled out his phone and dialed Brian’s number. Brian’s voice, full of arrogance and impatience, crackled through the speaker. “What now?” he demanded.
“Brian, we need to talk,” James said, calm and steady. “I want to explain exactly where you stand in this situation.”
Brian scoffed. “I know where I stand.”
“No, you don’t,” James replied firmly. “You’re trying to sue your mother for her house, but you’re standing on very shaky ground. What you did after your father died—taking his things, selling them without permission—that’s theft, Brian.”
There was a long silence. I could hear Brian’s breath catch on the other end of the line. “Are you serious?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
“Yes,” James said, unwavering. “You took things that didn’t belong to you. If you go through with this lawsuit, we’ll make sure the whole world knows what you did. And trust me, the consequences could be far worse than just losing the case.”
I held my breath, praying that Brian would back down. “What do you want me to do?” he asked, his voice quieter now.
“Drop the lawsuit,” James said. “Walk away before this gets any worse. If you do, we’ll make sure nothing else happens. But if you push this, you’ll regret it.”
The silence stretched on. Finally, I heard Brian’s defeated voice. “Fine. I’ll drop it.”
As James hung up, he turned to me, a satisfied smile crossing his face. “Sometimes, all it takes is the truth.”
I let out a sigh of relief, smiling through my tears. “You’re something else, you know that?”
“I’ve heard that before,” James said with a wink, reaching for his coffee.
In the end, Brian was stopped not by anger or revenge, but by the truth. And maybe that’s how it was always meant to be. Sometimes, all it takes is patience—and a little help from an old friend—to set things right.
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