The day my parents died in a car accident, I felt like my entire world collapsed. I was numb, barely able to breathe, moving through the days like a shadow of myself. I thought the pain couldn’t get worse. I was wrong.
At the will reading, I learned the final blow. My parents had left the family home to my father’s sister, Dina—the same woman who had never hidden her dislike for me. There was no money set aside for me. Every last dollar had gone toward my mother’s medical treatments. I walked out of that office stunned, grieving, and terrified of what came next.
Two days later, Dina showed up at the house with a smug smile and no hesitation.
“YOU HAVE ONE DAY TO GET OUT OF MY HOUSE,” she announced, as if she were reminding me to take out the trash.
I begged her. I told her I had nowhere to go, no savings, no plan. She didn’t flinch. She stretched out on the couch, turned on the TV, and ignored me while I packed my life into trash bags. Every photo, every memory, folded and stuffed away while she laughed at something on the screen.
The next morning, I stepped outside with swollen eyes and shaking hands, ready to walk away from the only home I had ever known. That’s when I noticed a black limousine parked at the curb.
I assumed it belonged to someone else and started to walk past—until the door slowly opened.
“Sarah,” a voice called.
I froze. Turned around. And gasped.
Inside the limo sat Mr. Sterling—my father’s former business partner. I hadn’t seen him in over ten years. He looked from my tear-stained face to the bags at my feet, then quietly gestured for me to get in.
“I’ve been waiting for this day,” he said gently as the door closed, drowning out Dina’s voice screaming from the porch for me to hurry up and leave.
“What are you doing here?” I cried. “My aunt took everything. I have nothing.”
Mr. Sterling placed a thick, wax-sealed envelope in my hands.
“Your parents knew exactly who Dina was,” he said. “They also knew that if they left you anything directly, she would fight you in court for years—until you were broken.”
My hands trembled as I opened the envelope.
Inside was a deed to a luxury penthouse in the city. Beneath it—a bank statement. The number on it made my breath catch in my throat.
“The house your aunt just claimed?” Mr. Sterling continued calmly. “It’s drowning in debt. Your father used it as collateral to fund a protected trust for you—one she can’t touch. In thirty days, the bank will take that house. Dina didn’t inherit a home. She inherited a financial disaster.”
I looked out through the tinted window. Dina was on the lawn, tossing my remaining clothes into the dirt, smiling like she’d won.
She had no idea.
The driver turned toward me. “Where to, miss?”
I wiped my tears, lifted my chin, and looked toward the city skyline ahead.
“Away from here,” I said. “And don’t stop for anything.”
