My heart drummed fiercely as I hung up the phone. The person I had just called was Brian Mercer, a name I hadn’t had any reason to speak in over two decades. He was the best attorney in the western states when it came to matters involving property disputes, and he had a reputation for being a bulldog in the courtroom. But that wasn’t why I called him. Brian and I had a history, one that Alan Peterson was about to learn about in the hardest way possible.
I leaned against my truck, my mind a whirlpool of thoughts. The betrayal from my daughter cut deeper than the physical blow Alan had delivered. I raised her better than this, to value family over material possessions. And yet, here we were. The man she chose had turned our family celebration into a circus, and she had stood by, frozen and silent.
Despite the pain in my heart, there was a part of me that was relieved. The truth was out now, and I could deal with it head-on. No more pretending or plastering smiles on my face. Alan had crossed a line—no, he had obliterated it. And now he would face the consequences.
I spent the night at a friend’s house in Houston, unable to face returning to the ranch where my memories of Margaret made everything feel more difficult. I didn’t sleep much, my mind restless as I prepared for the next steps. By morning, the bruise on my cheek had darkened, a stark reminder of just how far Alan was willing to go.
Brian arrived mid-morning, punctual as always. He was older but still had the same fiery eyes that intimidated many an opponent in court. When I opened the door, he looked at my cheek and shook his head. “Looks like you’ve had quite the evening, Clifford.”
I chuckled darkly, wincing at the pain. “You could say that.”
We sat at the kitchen table, coffee in hand as I laid out the situation. He listened intently, his expression unreadable as I recounted the events of the wedding. When I finished, he leaned back and sighed. “You were right to call me. This isn’t just a family dispute; Alan’s actions border on coercion and assault. We can make a strong case against him.”
“But I don’t want to drag Avery through the mud,” I said, my voice betraying the conflict I felt. “She’s caught in the middle.”
Brian nodded, understanding. “We can approach this carefully. The aim is to secure your rights and protect the ranch. If Alan pushes, we push back. But I’ll do everything I can to keep Avery out of the courtroom.”
By the time Brian left, we had a plan. Alan wasn’t going to know what hit him. I’d spent too long in the shadows, trying to be the reasonable one for my daughter’s sake. But that time was over. Alan had awoken a side of me that had been dormant, and I was ready to fight—to protect my legacy and remind those around me of what integrity truly meant.
As I watched Brian’s car disappear down the road, I felt a renewed sense of purpose. The ranch was my life’s work, my heritage, something I intended to pass down under the right circumstances—not through manipulation or deceit. This battle was just beginning, and I was prepared to see it through to the end.
