I pushed past her—and froze.

Inside stood four men in black suits and sunglasses. One approached, extending a gloved hand. “You must be Mr. Rowe’s child. We’ve been expecting you.”

Cherry shrank behind me like a wilted flower.

“My name is Agent Keller,” he said. “Your father had classified clearance with the Department of Defense. In the event of his death, his legal heir was to be briefed immediately.”

“Heir?” I repeated, dazed.

The agent nodded. “This house, the assets, and access to his secured research are all in your name. Your stepmother was… unaware of the will.”

Cherry’s face turned crimson. “He told me it was mine!” she shrieked.

Agent Keller turned to her calmly. “Ma’am, you have 24 hours to vacate the premises.”

I couldn’t speak. I just watched as the woman who threw me out now scrambled to collect her things.

Later, in Dad’s study—my study—I opened the sealed envelope he’d left behind. One line stood out:

“Forgive me for not protecting you from her. But now, everything is yours. Make me proud.”

Lesson:
Cruel people may take your home, but they can’t erase your worth. Sometimes, justice waits quietly—then arrives in a fleet of black SUVs.