“The beach house stays in the family,” I replied evenly. “It’s Madison’s heritage, and I’ll be damned if I let you take it.”

There was a soft click, and then the line went dead. I sat for a moment, the quiet of my home wrapping around me like a cocoon. I’d done what I had to do.

The next few days were a whirlwind of emotions. Madison didn’t call, and I didn’t expect her to. She needed time to process everything, to sort through the wreckage of her new marriage and decide what was real. I gave her space but kept my phone close, ready for when she would reach out.

It was nearly a week later when my phone finally rang. Madison’s voice was small but steady. “Mom, can we talk?”