My father nodded beside her, as if the inheritance was already theirs.
It was almost surreal—seeing them sit there so confidently after everything.
The last time I’d seen them that sure of themselves… I was sixteen, and they were walking out of our small rental near Lake Michigan, leaving me behind with an empty fridge and a note telling me to figure things out on my own.
And I did.
Just not the way they expected.
When they abandoned me, the only person who stepped in was my uncle Henry.
He took me in, gave me structure, and forced me to rebuild my life from the ground up. He didn’t offer comfort—he gave me discipline, routine, and expectations.
At first, I resisted.
But slowly, my life changed.
I moved to Chicago, attended a better school, worked harder than I ever had, and eventually built a career in technology—just like he had.
Years later, I wasn’t surviving anymore.
I was thriving.
Then everything shifted.
Henry was diagnosed with terminal cancer.
