But Jason had planned ahead. The house was in Alice’s name, and when his parents tried to claim it, she didn’t flinch. Instead, she offered them the one thing Jason left behind—a letter. In it, he extended forgiveness, but no property, and certainly no closure. The letter shattered whatever illusion they carried about reclaiming something they never earned.
Faced with Alice’s final demand—to honestly explain why they’d cut him off—they faltered. Their answer, hollow and weak, only confirmed what Alice already knew: they had no right to his memory, let alone his home. As they left in quiet defeat, Alice felt both sorrow and strength. She had fought for Jason’s legacy, and in doing so, had secured more than just a house—she had protected the truth of his life, and the love they shared, from being rewritten by those who had once turned their backs on him.