“Years ago, Mr. Wilson received an inheritance from a distant relative. He chose to live simply. Everything was left to you. The legal waiting period has ended.”
Emily dropped the container without noticing. She ran and grabbed Margaret’s hand.
“Are you okay, Grandma Margaret?”
The word Grandma came naturally.
Margaret looked at her and broke into tears.
“I don’t know what to do, my love.”
They explained paperwork, signatures, the house. Margaret stood on shaking legs.
Emily tried to follow, but a gentle hand stopped her.
“It’ll just be a moment,” Margaret said, forcing a smile. “I’ll come back tomorrow.”
She didn’t.
Emily came the next day.
She waited.
And the next.
And the next.
Her fingers grew cold gripping the bench.
Meanwhile, Margaret lived in a golden nightmare.
The house was enormous. Marble floors. Chandeliers. A pool. Closets full of expensive clothes that weren’t even her size. Everything sparkled—and she felt hollow.
She cried in a king-sized bed.
Ate alone at a marble table.
And asked the same question over and over:
Where is Emily?
When the lawyers suggested celebrating, Margaret stared at them.
“I don’t want this without her,” she said. “I want the child.”