My grandmother left me her $450,000 lakehouse and told me to protect it. While I was on a business trip, my parents secretly sold it to fund a world tour—then texted, “Thanks for making our dream come true.”

My stomach tightened.

I tried calling. It went to voicemail.

I checked my bank accounts. No large transfers. No unusual activity.

Then I remembered something Nana’s lawyer had insisted I sign up for: the county’s property monitoring service. Any recorded document related to the cabin would trigger an alert.

I logged in.

There it was.

DOCUMENT RECORDED: GRANT DEED — TRANSFER OF OWNERSHIP.

For a moment, the words didn’t make sense.

Transfer of ownership.

I opened the document. My hands began to shake.