“Harper,” he rushed, voice strained. “I—I didn’t know who else to call. Your mom is losing it.”

I sat up. “Why are you calling me?”

“Because Caroline says you’re… doing something. She says you’re trying to ‘steal’ the lake house and sabotage the engagement. And now the police are involved and—” He swallowed. “They’re there. Right now. Squad cars.”

I stayed still. “They went back?”

Trevor sounded frantic. “They said it was for ‘planning.’ Caroline invited her bridesmaids. There’s a photographer. They were setting up again. Then the cops arrived and told everyone to step away from the doors.”

I closed my eyes, letting calm settle. “Trevor,” I said softly, “they’re trespassing.”

A long pause. “But… Diane said the house was a ‘family asset.’ She said your dad—”

“My dad is dead,” I said. “And he left me a small inheritance. I bought that house. The deed is in my name.”

Trevor’s voice dropped. “Caroline told me you’re unstable. That you have… episodes.”

I gave a quiet laugh. “Did she also tell you she didn’t know me? To my face?”

Silence. Enough of an answer.

I got dressed and drove out—not to confront, but to observe what happens when lies collide with records.

When I arrived, the driveway was cluttered with cars, folding chairs, and a confused catering van. Two officers stood at the entrance. My mother was mid-rant, arms flailing. Caroline was crying theatrically toward the photographer.

And Evan—my attorney—stood nearby, holding a folder.

He nodded. “Perfect timing.”

Mom spotted me and charged forward.

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