Life was a constant struggle after my adoptive parents died. Raising my daughter Isla alone in a small house, I juggled two jobs and household chores, barely making ends meet. Bills piled up, and my step-aunt Margaret’s visits only added pressure, as she insisted I needed stability—and her control.

Desperate, I rented out a spare room to a kind woman named Delphine. She seemed warm and helpful, reading to Isla and easing my burdens. For a while, it felt like relief had arrived, and I began to trust her, despite Margaret’s warnings to be cautious of strangers.

One day, I caught Delphine going through my things, which unsettled me, but I tried to ignore it. Then, while I was away, Margaret called frantically, saying something was wrong at home. I rushed back to find Delphine accused of stealing important documents—and my jewelry. Shocked and heartbroken, I threw her out.

But then Isla revealed Delphine was actually her real grandmother, and Margaret had framed her to gain control. Meeting Delphine again, I learned she had given me up for adoption years ago and had been trying to protect us. With Delphine’s support, I finally found the family and peace I’d longed for—and the courage to stand up to Margaret for good.