…a man in a dark suit stepping out of the limo.
He smiled gently. “Are you ___?” he asked, saying my full name.
I nodded, too stunned to speak.
“My name is Robert,” he said. “I worked with your parents’ attorney. They asked me to find you today.”
My knees nearly buckled.
He opened the car door and handed me a thick envelope. Inside were documents — updated ones. Ones Dina had never mentioned.
It turned out my parents had known Dina would try to take everything. The house had been left to her temporarily, yes — but only under one condition: she was required to let me live there until I finished school. The moment she forced me out, she violated the terms.
And there was more.
The house wasn’t the real inheritance.
My parents had quietly sold a piece of land years earlier and placed the money into a trust — one only I could access on my twenty-first birthday. Dina wasn’t listed anywhere. She never knew it existed.
“She was given the house because your father knew she’d show her true colors,” Robert said calmly. “And she did.”
By that afternoon, Dina received a call from the attorney. By evening, she was the one packing bags. The house was put up for sale to cover penalties and legal fees.
I moved into a small apartment paid for by the trust. It wasn’t big. It wasn’t fancy.
But it was mine.
On my first night there, I unpacked the last box and found a note tucked between old photos. My mom’s handwriting.
We can’t protect you from everything. But we can make sure you’re never powerless.
I cried for a long time — not from loss, but from love.
They were gone.
But they hadn’t left me unguarded.
