“She insulted me. Mom, she humiliated me in front of you and everyone else. And now I’m the problem because I won’t roll over and hand her everything.”
There was a pause.
“I don’t want us to drift apart. Please, Hannah. At least go see the cabin. Stay a night. Clear your head. Maybe then you’ll understand.”
Understand what? That my family had chosen Megan over me. That my inheritance was a joke in their eyes.
I wanted to hang up, but I forced myself to breathe.
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll go, but not for Megan, for Dad.”
The line went silent. Then she whispered, “Thank you,” before hanging up.
I sat there with the phone still in my hand, staring at the blank screen. For Dad. That was the only reason I’d do it. He had wanted me to have that cabin. Maybe he had a reason none of us saw.
So, I packed a bag, just enough clothes, boots, and gear to get by for a few days. My army training had taught me how to live with less. A cabin in the mountains wouldn’t scare me. What scared me was realizing that my own family saw me as disposable.
The drive north took hours, the road winding through stretches of forest and small towns that looked half abandoned. With each mile, Albany faded behind me, and the thought of Megan’s smirk grew more distant. By the time I saw the first signs for Lake George, the anger in my chest had cooled into something else: determination.
When I finally turned onto the dirt road leading to the cabin, my headlights caught the outline of a sagging roof and shuttered windows. My heart tightened. This was it, my so-called worthless inheritance.
I pulled up and killed the engine. The night was quiet, the kind of quiet that pressed on your ears. I stepped out, boots crunching against gravel, and looked at the dark silhouette of the cabin. It wasn’t much to look at, but it was mine.
The porch groaned under my boots as I climbed the steps, brushing leaves out of the way. The lock was old, but the key turned smoothly, which surprised me. For a second, I expected the place to smell like mildew and dead mice. Instead, the air hit me with pinewood, faint coffee, and leather. Not bad for a shack Megan thought was my destiny.
I flicked the light switch by the door, half convinced it wouldn’t work. A warm glow filled the small living room.
Someone had been taking care of this place.