Then Marcus turned the page and cleared his throat. “To my daughter Riley, I leave the family cabin and the surrounding two hundred acres of land in the Ozark Mountains.”

The room went completely silent for a long moment. My father had left Skylar a penthouse lifestyle and handed me an old shack in the middle of the woods.

I kept my face blank, because the military had taught me how to hide my reactions. Never let the enemy see what you’re thinking was a rule I lived by every single day.

Skylar wasn’t about to let the moment pass without a comment. She leaned back in her chair and smirked at me, crossing her arms.

“A cabin fits you perfectly, you stinking woman,” she said, loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. Several relatives gasped at the cruelty of it, but my mother just looked down at the table and refused to meet my eyes.

Marcus shifted uncomfortably and kept reading, as if pretending the insult hadn’t happened would make the tension go away. I clenched my jaw, because it wasn’t the words that hurt.

I’d been called much worse things overseas by people who genuinely wanted me dead. What hurt was that my own sister felt comfortable spitting on me in front of our entire family.

Skylar laughed under her breath and leaned closer. “Come on, Riley, you live out of a duffel bag most of the year anyway, so that shack is actually perfect for you.”

“It’s rustic and simple, with nothing fancy to distract you,” she went on. “No one will even notice if you decide to disappear up there for good.”

I looked to my mother for some kind of support, but she didn’t say a word. No defense, no pushback—only a silence that told me she was too afraid to upset Skylar.

Marcus closed the folder and adjusted his glasses. “That concludes the reading of the will. Your father’s wishes are now legally binding.”

Skylar shot her hand into the air like she’d just won a game of bingo. “Great, because I’ll start looking at management options for the Nashville property as soon as this week.”