The night my sister kicked me out of the only home I’d ever known, I thought I had lost everything. What neither of us realized was that Grandma hadn’t told us her final secret — and it would change everything we thought we knew about her will.My name is Claire; I’m 32 years old, and for as long as I can remember, it was just me, my younger sister Mia, and our grandmother Evelyn.Our parents disappeared when we were little. I never got the full story — every time I asked, Grandma would press her lips together and say, “Some things are too heavy for children to carry. All you need to know is that I love you.” Her voice was always soft, but final, like the closing of a door. I hated that answer, yet I clung to it.

Grandma became our world. She was mother, father, protector, and home all in one. She packed our lunches with little notes that said, “Shine bright today.” She stayed up late sewing costumes for our school plays, even when her fingers ached.She was gentle, yet there was steel in her — the kind of woman who could stretch a dollar into a week of dinners but still sneak chocolate bars into our backpacks.I was the one who stayed. I grew up folding laundry beside her, hauling groceries, and later, driving her to doctors’ appointments when age began to slow her down.