I turned and walked through the glass doors of my building, leaving them standing on the street, entirely destroyed.
As the elevator carried me up to my penthouse, my phone buzzed. An unknown number.
I answered. “Hello?”
“Grandma?” a small, weeping voice came through the speaker. “It’s me. Clara.”
My heart, despite the armor I had built over the last month, gave a painful, involuntary flutter.
“Clara,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “What a surprise. How was the honeymoon in Paris? Was the wedding—the one I paid for—beautiful?”
“Grandma, please,” Clara sobbed, her voice thick with panic. “What’s happening? Mom and Dad are screaming. They said you’ve lost your mind and kicked them out of their apartment. They said you took their cars.”
I walked into my living room and poured myself a glass of water. “I haven’t lost my mind, Clara. I am simply taking back what legally belongs to me. The apartment, the cars, the money—it was all mine.”
“But… is this because of the wedding?” she stammered. “Grandma, I swear I didn’t know! I was so nervous, everything happened so fast, I didn’t notice you weren’t there!”
“You didn’t notice?” I repeated, my tone turning dangerously sharp. “You didn’t see the grandmother who raised you missing from the front row? You didn’t ask your parents why the woman who bought your dress wasn’t at the reception?”
Silence stretched over the line, broken only by her muffled crying.
“No, Clara,” I said softly, but firmly. “You noticed. But you were too afraid to ruin your perfect aesthetic. Your father threw me out like a stray dog, and you stood at the altar and smiled. Then you went to Paris for two weeks, and you didn’t call me once to apologize.”
“Grandma, I’m sorry…”
