The Law

For a second, I thought I'd misunderstood him. I looked at him with my face filled with confusion.

"No. I am his daughter."

"Biologically?"

"Yes!"

"Legally?"

I stared at him.

"What kind of question is that?"

Harold shrugged.

"The documents don't reflect a formal inheritance transfer."

"That's ridiculous!" I snapped. "This has been our home for generations!"

Harold shrugged again.

"The law is the law, Miss Hart." His voice became colder. "You have forty-eight hours to vacate the premises."

My breath caught.

"This isn't law," I said, taking a step toward him. "This is theft."

Harold's smile disappeared.

"Mind your tone, young lady."

I stared at him in disbelief.

"You expect me to just leave? My father was buried today!"

"And?"

That single word stunned everyone, even Sheriff Collins looked uncomfortable.

Harold continued without the slightest trace of guilt.

"You have no husband, no children, no registered claim. So…" He tucked the folder beneath his arm. “The farm will be auctioned. The house, the barn, the land, the livestock." He paused before adding,

"Everything."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing.

His lips curled into another smile.

"Or rather… If you were to marry a suitable local man. Someone respected in the community." He adjusted his jacket proudly. "Then the property could remain in the family. Under proper management, of course." His eyes lingered on me. "And I'd be willing to make that arrangement myself. For the good of the town."

For a heartbeat, I simply stared at him.

Then disgust rolled through me so violently that it almost made me sick.

“You’re disgusting. You think I’d marry you to keep what’s already mine?”

“It's no longer yours Ava. Your father died with his inheritance.”

Something clicked inside my mind immediately. I narrowed my eyes and looked up at him.

“Wait a minute. You planned this,” I hissed, tears of rage burning in my eyes. “You waited until he was dead to come take everything.”

“I simply took advantage of an opportunity,” Harold replied coldly. “Your father was stubborn. He should have planned better.”

Something inside me snapped and before I could stop myself…

Slap!

The crack echoed across the yard like a whip while everyone froze. Harold’s head jerked to the side, his cheek blooming bright red. He slowly turned his head back toward me, his face twisted with fury. He raised his hand to strike me back.

"You little…”

But before it could come down… A cold voice spoke from behind me.

“I wouldn't…”

Every person in the yard went still. A chill ran down my spine before I even turned around to see Dante standing in the farmhouse doorway. His face was still pale from blood loss, and the bandages beneath his black shirt reminded me he should barely have been able to stand.

Yet somehow… He looked like the most dangerous man there.

His dark eyes rested on Harold as he descended the porch steps, one slow, deliberate step at a time.

"If I were you," he said, stopping beside me, "I'd put my hand down.”

Harold's raised hand stopped halfway to my face and for the first time since he'd stepped onto our property, confidence slipped from his expression. There was something unnervingly calm about Dante, something that made the deputies shift uneasily and even Sheriff Collins hesitate before speaking.

"Sir," the sheriff said carefully, "this doesn't concern you. You should go back inside."

Dante's gaze settled on him without the slightest hint of fear.

"It became my concern the moment he tried to hit her."

Silence followed as Harold slowly lowered his hand, though his jaw remained clenched.

"And who exactly are you?" he demanded.

Dante ignored the question. Instead, he descended the porch at one more step beside me. Without looking at me, he asked quietly,

"Are you hurt?"

I swallowed and shook my head.

"No."

Only then did he turn back to Harold.

"You should leave."

Harold let out a short laugh, but it sounded hollow.

"Leave? This is official town business. I have documents and the legal authority."

Dante's eyes flicked briefly to the folder tucked beneath Harold's arm before returning to his face.

"I'm sure you do," he said calmly. "But I still suggest you leave.”

"And if I don't leave?"

I found myself holding my breath while Dante simply looked at him. There was no anger on his face and somehow, that frightened everyone far more.The silence stretched until Dante finally spoke.

"You'll regret staying."

Sheriff Collins rubbed the back of his neck before stepping closer to Harold.

"Harlord , I think we should leave."

Harold shot him an incredulous look.

"What?"

"We've made our point. We can return later."

For a moment, I thought Harold would refuse but then his eyes met Dante's again and whatever he saw there made him reconsider. He pointed at me, his voice dripping with resentment.

"This isn't over, Miss Hart. You still have forty-eight hours."

As Harold climbed back into the lead SUV, he shot Dante one final look. “You’ve made a mistake getting involved, stranger.”

Dante answered calmly.

"And so have you.”

I watched the three black SUVs disappear down the dirt road until the dust settled and silence returned to the farm. Only then did I realize how tightly I'd been clenching my fists. My whole body felt numb immediately. With Dad gone, Harlord now wants to steal our home and somehow... the man I'd saved only two days ago had become the only person standing beside me.

I turned toward him.

"Thank you."

He looked at me for a moment before answering quietly.

"You don't need to thank me."

Maybe I didn't but I didn't have the strength to say anything else. I walked back into the farmhouse on unsteady legs.

Unable to bear everything, I retreated to my bedroom,closed the door and leaned against it while I closed my eyes.

For the first time since burying my father, I let myself breathe. I thought I'd still cried them all away but instead, I felt completely empty. I don't know how long I stayed there before guilt began creeping into my thoughts.

Dante.

He had forced himself out of bed to protect me.

His wound...

What if it had opened again?

He should never have been outside.

I pressed a hand against my forehead, took in a slow breath and grabbed the medical supplies, leaving the room as I walked quietly down the hallway.

The farmhouse was almost dark now, the fading evening light stretching long shadows across the wooden floor.

I stopped outside the guest room and for a moment, I hesitated, then knocked softly.

"Come in."

I pushed the door open and saw Dante sitting on the edge of the bed with one hand pressed against the bandage around his waist. He looked exhausted, though he'd never admit it.

His dark eyes lifted to mine.

"What is it?"

I suddenly forgot every word I'd planned to say. My gaze drifted to the bloodstained bandage beneath his shirt.

"I..." I swallowed. "I wanted to check your wound."

He watched me in silence, unreadable as ever. Yet after a long moment, he gave a small nod.

"Then come here."

That single invitation made my heart beat just a little faster, not because I was afraid of him anymore, but because I was beginning to realize something that frightened me even more.

Despite everything that had happened...

I trusted him.