My brother’s future in-laws looked me up and down at the rehearsal dinner like I didn’t belong there. Then they started bragging about their powerful family name. What they didn’t know was that the estate beneath their feet belonged to me. And one more insult was about to cost them everything…

months earlier, Owen had called me sounding nervous and hopeful, asking whether I could “pull a few strings” to help reserve it.

I could.

Because the estate belonged to me.

Not because of inheritance. Not because I married into money. I bought Rosefield myself after spending ten years restoring neglected historic properties banks considered hopeless investments.continue reading …