My mind flashed back to summers spent there, the afternoons swimming in the lake, the evenings by the fireplace, listening to her stories. Those memories were priceless, worth far more than the gilded trappings my parents now flaunted. I took a deep breath, calming the tempest within me.
There was no turning back now. My path was clear: protect my grandmother’s legacy, restore what had been unjustly taken, and hold those responsible to account, no matter who they were. Suddenly, my phone buzzed again.
A notification from Vance: “FBI has them. They’re not going anywhere.”
Relief washed over me, bittersweet but potent. This was just the beginning of the legal battle; the true fight lay ahead.
But for the first time since that devastating message, I allowed myself a small, grim smile. The lakehouse, my grandmother’s legacy, would be defended. And as for my parents, they would face the consequences of their betrayal.
I glanced at the Eiffel Tower once more, its lights flickering in the distance. In that moment, I promised myself that I would visit the lakehouse again, not just in memory, but in reality. It would take time, and it would take strength, but it was a promise I intended to keep.
