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The husband glanced toward the hallway. “The one downstairs?”

“Yes. That room contains personal documents, belongings, and other things that belonged specifically to my son. The door is secured by a keypad, and I am the only person with the access code. The system is also connected directly to me, so if anyone attempts to tamper with the lock, force the door, remove the keypad, or otherwise gain access, I will be notified.”

Her tone remained polite, but there was no mistaking the warning underneath it.

Mama paused, then gave them a small, knowing smile.

“And before anybody lets their imagination run away with them, I can assure you I am not hiding my son in that office, keeping some dark family secret behind the door, or setting y’all up to be haunted because you rented his house.”

The wife gave a nervous little laugh.

“I know how people think,” Mama continued. “Especially people who watch too many movies. A locked room in a missing man’s house starts sounding like the beginning of some horror story real quick. This is not that. It is simply my son’s private office, filled with things that belong to him, and I intend to keep it exactly the way he left it until I know what happened to him. So there’s no mystery to solve, no secret passage to find, and definitely no reason for anybody to start punching numbers into that keypad just to see what happens. Leave that room alone, and we will never have a problem.”

Mama looked between all four of them to make sure they understood.

Well... she was wrong about one part.

I was absolutely about to haunt their asses… or try.

“So if you have family members, friends, children’s friends, or anybody else visiting who tends to get curious and start opening doors they have no business opening, please make them aware of that beforehand. Any attempt to enter or tamper with that office will be considered a serious violation of the lease and grounds for immediate termination of the tenancy.”

“I’m not saying anything of this to come off like a mean landlord or scare y’all. I really want y’all to enjoy this home. Make yourselves comfortable. Use the pool, the theater, the outdoor spaces, the guest rooms… whatever else is included in the lease. I do not want anyone feeling like they have to tiptoe around simply because this was, is, my son’s home.” She paused. “But his office is different, and it will remain untouched indefinitely.”

The husband nodded slowly. “Understood.”

Then the wife asked the question I had been waiting on. “So… what if your son shows up?”

Woman, I’m already here.

Mama folded her arms and didn’t hesitate. “Then he gets his house back,” she simply replied. “I am willing to rent my son’s home while he is missing; I am not willing to make anybody believe that gives them a permanent claim to it. This property is not for sale and never will be.”

Translation: Don’t get too fucking comfortable. You renting this shit, not inheriting it.

I smiled.

People assumed I got my temper and mouth from my pops. They clearly had never watched Henrietta Black tell a grown-ass man twice her size that he had exactly thirty seconds to stop wasting her time.

The wife glanced at her husband, but Mama continued before either of them could say anything.

“There is a return provision written into the lease specifically for that possibility. If my son returns, the tenancy terminates with thirty days’ notice. Any unused portion of your rent would be refunded, and your security deposit returned in full, provided there is no unrelated damage to the property. I want that understood before anybody signs anything.”

The wife walked into one of the bathrooms, taking another appreciative look around.

“We’ll take it.”

The husband seemed satisfied.

I wasn’t.

The second I figure out how to show up properly, y’all are getting the fuck out that day.

***

Five days later, a moving truck came through my gates.

Mama’s explanation had made enough sense that I was willing to see if I could tolerate strangers living there long enough to keep the house from falling apart.

The first few hours weren’t terrible. They carried boxes inside, argued about who got which bedroom, and started spreading their shit through rooms that still felt like mine no matter what lease Mama had put in front of them.