Her head whipped toward me. “You knew about this!”
“I swear I didn’t,” I said, my voice unsteady. “He never told me.”
Mr. Henderson inclined his head. “Your grandfather intended it that way. He believed discussing it ahead of time would spark unnecessary conflict.”
“Conflict?” Aunt Linda’s voice rose. “This is manipulation! He must have pressured him!”
The lawyer reached into his folder and withdrew a small digital recorder.
“Expecting potential disputes,” he said evenly, “your father requested that his wishes be formally recorded.”
He pressed play.
Grandpa’s voice filled the office. It sounded thinner than I remembered, but firm.
“If you’re hearing this, it means I’m gone. I’m making this decision because I know my daughter. Linda has always chased the next dollar. She’ll want to cash in on this land without having lifted a finger to save it. Kevin and those kids have kept this farm alive. They’ve earned the right to stay.”
My aunt’s face drained of color.
The recording continued.
“I’m not confused or pressured. This is my choice. The farm stays in the family, but only with the ones who treat it like family.”
The audio stopped.
