They had offered enormous, off-the-books cash settlements to simply buy me out, sums of money that would have set me up comfortably for life.

But Julian’s legal defense was an impenetrable fortress.

Every psychiatric evaluation was flawless.

Every signature was legally binding.

The careful man who had saved his pennies for forty years had built his final gift to be unbreakable, and it held.

The property was mine.

And so, instead of selling the land to Caleb’s corporate group to be demolished for his tower, I had decided to use a small portion of Julian’s liquid trust to execute the vision he had outlined in the final pages of his journal.

That morning, for the first time, I unlocked the heavy front door, and it opened with a quiet click, and I stepped inside my husband’s shop.