When Ethan died, grief swallowed me whole. His family, who had abandoned him years earlier, suddenly showed up at the funeral pretending to care.
After the service, his brother cornered me: “Give us Margaret’s ring. It belongs to the family.”
That ring was no ordinary jewel. Ethan’s grandmother, Margaret—the only one who ever supported us—had placed it in my hands before she died, saying it belonged with me. What they didn’t know was that she had transferred it to me legally.
💍 They threatened, insulted, even claimed I’d stolen it. But I stayed silent, because my plan was bigger than their greed.
One day, Ethan’s cousin Lily—the only family member who truly loved him—will inherit the ring at eighteen, along with part of his life insurance to chase her dreams.
To them, I’ll always be the villain who “stole” their heirloom. But the truth? That ring will never symbolize entitlement or bloodlines. It will stand for love, courage, and kindness—the legacy Ethan and Margaret left behind.
And no matter what his family says, that’s something they can never take away.
