He hadn’t kicked Linda out to punish her or cut her off. He’d done it to protect her.
He knew my brothers. Knew how they resented her. Maybe he’d even seen signs that after he passed, they’d make her life miserable—or worse, try to take everything.
So he’d quietly, carefully, made sure she had something of her own. A home. A sanctuary.
And then he pushed her away in front of everyone, knowing it was the only way to stop us—from ever thinking she had a claim to anything more.
I asked Mr. Jenkins for the address.
It was a small cottage near the edge of town. Nothing fancy. A neat porch, flowerbeds out front. The kind of place where time moved a little slower.
I knocked.
