“Get off my concrete.”
I stopped at the edge of the fresh gray slab and looked at Victoria Voss.
“My concrete?” I asked.
She folded her arms. The morning sun caught the expensive sunglasses pushed up into her hair, the gold bracelet on her wrist, and the little smile on her face. It was the smile she always wore when she thought money had already won the argument for her.
“Yes,” she said slowly, like she was explaining something to a child. “My concrete. My construction site. You need to leave.”
I looked down.
My boots were standing on my land. Not hers. Mine.
I looked back up at her.
“Victoria, fourteen feet of this foundation is on my property.”
She gave a tiny laugh. She wasn’t nervous and she wasn’t embarrassed. She was amused.
“Oh, please.”
She glanced at my work truck parked by the fence. She looked at my mud-stained boots. Then she let her eyes travel slowly back up to my face.
“The slab is poured,” she said. “It’s done. You’re not going to tear out a six-figure foundation because you’re emotional about a strip of dirt.”
“A strip of dirt?”
She stepped closer.
“I’m trying to be generous here, Cole. Take the fifteen thousand dollars my attorney offered you and move on.”
“The land isn’t for sale.”
Her smile disappeared for about a second. Then it came back colder.
“Everybody says that until there’s a check in front of them.”
I stared at her. She had no idea what she’d just admitted.
“You poured this while my wife and I were in Georgia,” I said, “helping her mother after surgery.”
What happened next changed everything… FULL STORY on the next page.
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