Chapter 5 - THE PRICE MY PARENTS PUT ON ME
Rebecca returned the next morning with a cardboard archive box.
I was still sitting in Grandpa's study.
I'd barely slept.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the same sentence.
They offered to take you home in exchange for the deed.
Rebecca placed the box on Grandpa's desk.
“Harold wanted you to have these when you were ready.”
I stared at her.
“How long have you known?”
“Since he began the custody proceedings.”
My throat tightened.
“Then tell me everything.”
She opened the box.
Seventeen years earlier, my father had invested heavily in a property-development venture.
The project failed.
Richard owed money to lenders, contractors, and several relatives.
My parents were facing foreclosure on their own home.
Grandpa offered to help with reasonable living expenses while they reorganized their finances.
But he refused to use his house as collateral for Richard's speculative business debts.
Three days later, my parents dropped me off for the weekend.
Then Dad called Grandpa.
Rebecca handed me a copy of the letter he'd sent afterward.
Harold, if you want Emily to return home, you'll need to show us that you're willing to support the family properly. Transfer the house to Diane, and we can all move forward.
I felt physically sick.
“He wrote that?”
Rebecca nodded.
“Harold refused.”
“What happened next?”
“Your father told him you were better off where you were until the financial situation improved.”
I stared at the paper.
“So I was supposed to make Grandpa feel guilty.”
“That appears to have been their intention.”
Grandpa tried to contact them repeatedly.
He asked for permission to enroll me in school.
He requested medical information.
He sent updates and photographs.
For several months, my parents responded only when they wanted to discuss money or property.
Eventually, they stopped responding altogether.
Grandpa sought legal custody.
The court granted it after the necessary proceedings.
My parents never made a meaningful effort to bring me home.
I looked at Rebecca.
“Why didn't Grandpa tell me?”
“He didn't want a five-year-old believing she was responsible for an adult's financial decisions.”
I started crying.
For years, I had wondered whether I was difficult.
Whether I cried too much.
Whether I had done something that made my parents decide Brianna was worth keeping and I wasn't.
Now I understood that there had never been anything I could have done differently.
I wasn't the person who made that decision.
They were.
Rebecca let me cry.
Then she handed me another folder.
“This contains the correspondence Harold sent after the custody order.”
Birthday cards.
Christmas letters.
School photographs.
Even invitations to my graduation.
Most had been returned unopened.
But there were also letters addressed to Brianna.
I frowned.
“Grandpa wrote to her?”
“Every year.”
I opened one.
Dear Brianna,
I hope your eighth birthday is wonderful. Emily has been learning to ride her bicycle. She asks about you sometimes. I would love to have you visit.
Another.
Dear Brianna,
Congratulations on starting middle school. I hope you know there is always room for you in this family.
The envelopes had been returned.
Some still carried their original stamps.
I remembered Brianna saying Grandpa never cared about her.
That he favored me.
That he had chosen me over her.
But he'd spent years trying to reach her.
And someone had made sure she never knew.
Then Rebecca removed a final document.
A bank statement.
The account name caught my attention.
Emily Whitmore — Custodial Account.
The original balance was $120,000.
I stared.
“What's this?”
Rebecca's expression hardened.
“Your grandmother Nora established that account for your education before she died. Your mother was named as the original custodian.”
“What happened to it?”
Rebecca turned the page.
The balance had fallen to almost nothing during the months immediately before my parents abandoned me.
May you like
My mother hadn't simply tried to trade me for Grandpa's house.
She had already spent money that was supposed to help pay for my future.
