but her health was deteriorating. She passed away when I was eight months pregnant, and at her funeral, I inherited everything from her. My family erupted in anger, but I focused on the future for my baby. Not long after, Stacy showed up at my door,

asking for money because she and Henry had lost everything. I refused to help, reminding her of all the pain she caused. She yelled at me, but I stood my ground, finally free from their toxic hold. As I leaned against the door, I felt a sense of relief and whispered to my baby, “Thank you, Grandma. I’ll make you proud.”