My husband had spent years warning me never to set foot on that farm. So after he passed away and the lawyer handed me the key, saying that from now on the place belonged to me, I was ready to sell it right away and put everything behind me. But before making my final decision, I still wanted to see it once for myself. When the door opened, I finally understood why, all those years, he had never wanted me to set foot there.

That single sentence told me everything I needed to know. Not We were wrong. Not I’m sorry. Just the managerial language of a man resetting optics.

He had Joshua’s height, and some of his bone structure, though life had sharpened him where my husband had softened. At close range, the resemblance was almost painful. The same dark eyes. The same broad brow. But where Joshua’s face had always opened before it judged, Robert’s seemed built from calculation outward.

“We were surprised by your sudden appearance,” he went on, “just as you were surprised by ours.”

Jenna nodded as if this were balanced, as if everyone here had been caught equally off guard by circumstance rather than by a dead man’s final strategy colliding with greed.

“Jenna,” I said, keeping my eyes on my daughter, “I thought we agreed you wouldn’t involve yourself with these men until we had a chance to talk.”

She flushed, but only slightly. “They called this morning with a proposal. I thought I should at least hear them out. They’re family.”

Family.