Returning to the mansion later that afternoon, I found Ellen in the garden, tending to the flowers as if she belonged there. I approached slowly, knowing that the conversation ahead would be difficult.
“Ellen, I spoke to a lawyer today,” I began, watching her closely for a reaction.
She paused, looking up from the rosebushes. “And?”
“There might be a way to challenge the foreclosure, but it’s going to take some time,” I explained.
She nodded, her expression unreadable. “I don’t want you to feel obligated, Dad,” she said softly.
“It’s not about obligation,” I replied, the words heavy with emotion. “It’s about family.”
We stood there in silence, the weight of unsaid words hanging between us. I wanted to ask her so many things—why she felt she had to do this alone, why she hadn’t reached out sooner—but I knew we had to take this one step at a time.
“I have a meeting with the bank tomorrow,” I said finally. “We’ll figure it out.”
She nodded again, a small smile breaking the tension. “Thank you, Dad,” she said, and for the first time, I felt a glimmer of hope.
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