My aunt tried to evict me from my grandfather’s farm just after his death – but the lawyer said one sentence that made her turn pale.

Farm life was not for her.

When Grandfather was placed in palliative care, she didn’t visit him once, not even when the nurse called her and said, “You should come now.”

I sat beside his bed every day, holding his hand while the machines hummed. He would squeeze my fingers and whisper things like, “You’re stronger than you think,” and I would nod because I couldn’t trust my own voice.

Aunt Linda sent me a text message once during that week.

“Keep me informed.”

That’s all.

He passed away on a Tuesday at 5:12 a.m. I was there to say goodbye. I felt his hand come to rest in mine.

Linda arrived that afternoon.

She never visited him once.

I heard it before I saw it. The squeal of tires on gravel. The sound of a car door slamming shut.

I stepped onto the porch and watched her get out of a shiny black Mercedes, oversized sunglasses covering half her face. Aunt Linda was wearing a white blazer as if she were going to brunch, not to her father’s house after his death.

She didn’t hug me.

She wasn’t there to grieve, but to inspect.

My aunt swept her gaze across the property.

I heard her before I saw her.

“Wow,” she said, taking off her sunglasses. “She looks smaller than I remembered.”

I crossed my arms. “They’re the same size.”

She walked right past me without asking and went straight into the house.

My youngest son, Noah, who is five years old, was sitting on the floor with his toy tractors. Aunt Linda barely glanced at him.

For the three days leading up to the funeral, she went through each room like an expert.

She opened the cupboards, tapped on the walls and took notes on her phone.

“It can go,” she muttered in the dining room. “Nobody wants dark wood anymore, it’s outdated.”

“It’s the same size.”

In the barn, she wrinkled her nose. “The smell alone will scare away the buyers.”

“The buyers ?” I asked abruptly.

Aunt Linda gave me a strained smile. “Katie, be realistic. This land is worth a fortune now. There’s lake access at the north end. Developers would fight over it.”

I felt something cold slide down my spine. “This is our home.”