Peggy felt the room blur. Forty years reduced to a role.
Then came the final line.
She was left one thing.
A single property in a town she had never heard of.
And thirty days to leave the house.
Only.
The word echoed in her mind.
Across the table, the children relaxed. Steven began talking about listing the house. Catherine smiled faintly. Michael checked his phone.
As if Peggy was already gone.
The lawyer slid a small envelope toward her.
Inside—a rusty iron key.
