The nursery walls were painted soft blue – my grandmother’s choice. “Peaceful,” she’d said with that knowing smile. It was the last decision we made together before cancer took her. As I ran my hand along the crib, I thought about how different my life looked from just a year before.
Back then, I was happily pregnant in what I thought was a solid marriage. My sister Brielle was still the family favorite, the one our parents doted on while barely noticing my existence. Then came that terrible afternoon when I came home early to find Brielle and my husband Daniel together. Their cold dismissal as they kicked me out of my own home still haunts me.
Lorraine’s small inheritance became my lifeline after losing everything. When Brielle came crawling back years later – abandoned by the same man she’d stolen from me – I surprised myself with how little sympathy I felt. The woman who once had everything now had nothing, while I’d built a quiet, content life with my son. Sometimes justice doesn’t come from revenge, but from living well.
