At twenty-five, I had thirty-two employees.
My parents still believed I was struggling.
Then Eleanor fell ill.
During a hospital visit, she held my hand.
“Sarah, there’s something you should know.”
She told me she’d revised her estate plan years before.
After her death, her modest house and remaining savings would become mine.
I objected.
“Eleanor, I don’t need your house.”
“I know,” she answered. “That’s why I trust you with it.”
She passed away peacefully six months afterward.
I was heartbroken.
Her small funeral brought together neighbors and former colleagues.
My biological parents didn’t attend.
Yet two months later, they unexpectedly arrived at my company’s headquarters.
Dad wore an expensive suit.
Mom carried a designer handbag.
Tyler accompanied them.
“Sarah!” Mom exclaimed. “We’ve missed you!”
I stared.
“Nine years is a long time to miss someone without calling.”
Dad laughed awkwardly.
“Families have disagreements.”
