When Grandpa passed, it broke something inside me.
He was my safe place—the man who told bedtime stories in funny voices, sneaked me candy when Mom wasn’t looking, and always seemed to know exactly what to say when the world felt like too much.
So when the will was read, I showed up heartbroken but quietly hopeful.
Surely, he would’ve left me something to hold onto.
As the lawyer read, my siblings gasped and cried over the fortunes they inherited. Millions.
Each name followed by a life-changing sum. And then… silence.
