My mom and I were inseparable. After my dad left, it was just us—through everything. So when she met Donald, I was happy she found love again. At first, he was kind and respectful, but over time, I noticed how he tried to push me out of her life.

When Mom’s cancer returned, I was devastated. I wanted to be there every step of the way, but Donald slowly shut me out—saying I was “too emotional,” even convincing the hospital to block me from visiting. I never got to say goodbye. She died while I was kept away, and at her funeral, Donald played the role of the grieving husband.

Three days later, during the will reading, the lawyer handed me a letter from my mom. She’d secretly transferred ownership of our old house to me and wrote that she knew what Donald was doing. She had made plans so he could never erase our bond.

Inside a wooden box she left me was a video. Weak but smiling, Mom told me she loved me, thought of me every day, and was proud. “He tried to erase you,” she said, “but love always finds a way.” And somehow, it did. I feel her everywhere. Always.