“Calla, don’t do this,” he said.

“Move, Rylan,” I said, my voice steady despite the shaking in my knees.

He stared at me for three long seconds.

Finally, he stepped aside, his face blank and unreadable.

“We’ll talk when you get back,” he said.

I didn’t answer.

I walked past him, down the stairs, and straight out to my car.

The cold night air hit my face, shocking my senses.

I got into the driver’s seat, locked the doors immediately, and drove away from the only home I had ever truly owned.

I parked in a grocery store lot three miles away, under the glare of a buzzing sodium light.

My hands shook so hard I could barely hold the steering wheel.

I pulled the documents out of my bag and stared at them under the dome light.

Two hundred thousand dollars.

The house was my grandmother’s legacy, left to me to keep me safe and secure.

Now it was tied to a massive loan I knew absolutely nothing about.

I needed professional help, and I knew a standard family lawyer wouldn’t be enough.