Inside were brand-new, expensive toys.

“I thought we could talk,” he added.

I stepped outside.

“You don’t need to do this.”

“I know,” Daniel replied. “But let’s be realistic. You’ve got seven kids. That house could fix a lot of things.”

“I’m aware.”

He leaned closer. “Sell it. Split the money. Everyone wins.”

“And if I don’t?”

His jaw tightened. “Then you’re choosing the hard way for no reason.”

I held his gaze.

Daniel smiled, then left the box on the porch and walked away.

Claire came later that afternoon.

When I opened the door, she was holding grocery bags.

Fresh food. Meat. Fruit. Things I hadn’t bought in months.

“I’m not here to argue,” she said. “But I understand pressure, and you’re under a lot of it. Selling isn’t selfish. It’s practical.”

She set the bags down.

“And keeping it?”

Claire hesitated. “Is complicated.”

“Only for you.”

That hit something. She didn’t argue, just nodded once and left.

Mark came the next day.

No gifts. No softened tone.

“You’re not seriously thinking of keeping it,” he said.

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“This isn’t what he would’ve wanted.”

I almost laughed.

“He literally said what he wanted.”

“You don’t know what state he was in,” Mark shot back.

“I know he was clear enough to choose,” I said.

Mark paced on my porch.

“You’re taking something that belongs to us.”

“Your father gave me a choice. That’s different.”

He stopped and looked at me.

“You’re going to regret this.”

I didn’t respond.

So he walked away.