anding on the porch with a forced smile.

“Well, don’t you look… settled,” she said, her eyes darting around the pristine front porch and freshly painted shutters. “Mind if I come in?”

I hesitated but stepped aside.

The moment Karen walked into the house, her jaw dropped. She wandered into the living room, running her hand over the restored wooden banister.

“I don’t believe it. You actually fixed this place. It’s beautiful.

How… how did you do it?”

“Four years of work,” I replied, crossing my arms. “And a lot of money.”

Her awe quickly shifted to something else. Her eyes narrowed, and her mouth twisted into a frown.

“Well,” she said, straightening up, “I’m here to talk about the house. I want it back.”

I blinked, unsure if I’d heard her correctly. “Excuse me?”

“I’ll repay what you paid for it,” she said quickly.

“Twenty thousand dollars. That’s fair, isn’t it? And, of course, you’ll need to return all the family heirlooms you found.

The dress, the jewelry.”

I stared at her, waiting for the punchline. When it didn’t come, I couldn’t help but laugh.

“You’re joking, right?” I said.

Karen’s face hardened. “I’m serious.

This was my mother’s house. Her memories are here. It belongs to our family.”

I shook my head.

“It belonged to your family. You sold it to me. The contract is clear, I own the house and everything in it.

You can’t just decide to take it back because you suddenly care.”

Karen’s face turned red. “I didn’t think—”

“No, you didn’t,” I interrupted. “And now, after I’ve spent years turning this place into a home, you think you can waltz in and take it all back?

That’s not how this works, Karen.”

Her voice dropped to a threatening tone. “You’re being selfish. You’ve always been selfish.”

I took a deep breath, refusing to let her bait me.

“I’ll tell you what,” I said, my voice calm. “I’ll give you the house back under one condition. Show me proof that I don’t own it—anything that says you have a legal right to take it.

Or, if you want the house and everything in it, you can buy it back at market value.”

Her eyes widened. “Market value? Are you insane?

That would be—”

“Over $400,000,” I said, cutting her off. “That’s what it’s worth now, thanks to the work I’ve put into it. So unless you’re prepared to write a check, this conversation is over.”

Karen’s mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.

Finally, she turned on her heel and stormed toward the door.

“This isn’t over!” she shouted as she left.

I closed the door behind her and leaned against it, my heart pounding.

“No, Karen,” I said quietly. “It is.”

For years, I poured my heart into this place. Every brushstroke, every nail, and every late night spent cleaning and repairing had brought me closer to making it mine.

And now, it was my home.

Karen and her family had given up on it, but I hadn’t. They saw a burden; I saw potential. They abandoned its history; I preserved it.

Looking around, I felt a surge of pride.

The house had been a disaster, just like they’d said. But now, it was more beautiful than even I had imagined.

This was my life’s work, and no one could take that from me.

Source: amomama