The storm hadn’t even passed before the next one arrived. Julia barely had time to put water on the stove when a sharp knock slammed through the house—three precise raps, cold enough to slice through bone. She froze. Brandon went still beside her.
Her mother peeked around the corner. “Who—”
But Julia already knew. Only one man knocked like he owned every door he touched.
Brandon opened it.
Mr. Hughes stepped inside without waiting for permission, his polished shoes tapping across the worn floorboards as if offended by their existence. “We’re past pleasantries,” he said. His gaze swept the room, unimpressed. “He’s giving up a legacy for a girl with nothing.”
Julia felt the words like a slap, but she didn’t flinch. Not this time.
Brandon’s voice tightened. “Dad—”
“Don’t embarrass your
