After My Dad Passed, My Young Stepmom Tried to Charge Me Rent to Live in My Own House — She Had No Idea What Was Coming
The house still smelled like him. Cedarwood and black coffee, mixed with the familiar sting of that overused cologne he wore for every special occasion. I stood frozen in the hallway, afraid that if I moved, even that final scent of him might disappear. Grief clung to me like the dust in the corners —…