Howard’s shoulders sagged.
Crystal’s eyes widened, calculating the social fallout.
Beverly’s jaw tightened, rage returning now that money wasn’t obeying her.
“But,” I continued, “I am buying the building you’re trying to develop.”
My lawyer slid another document across the table.
“I’m purchasing it for twelve million above your purchase price,” I said. “You’ll make a small profit.”
Howard’s face shifted, relief creeping in like a thief.
Then I finished.
“I’m turning it into affordable housing. First month free for widows and single mothers. It will be called the Terrence Washington Memorial Complex.”
Beverly shot up so fast her chair scraped the floor.
“You—” she started, voice splintering into something ugly.
I cut her off, calm as a verdict.
“I’m doing exactly what my husband would’ve wanted,” I said. “Helping people who actually need it.”
I picked up my purse.
“And Crystal,” I added, glancing at her phone like it was welded to her hand, “you might want to make your social media private.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You can’t do anything.”
I smiled—small, sharp.
“Watch me.”
I looked at them one last time—not with triumph, not with gloating, but with something stranger: freedom.