The second surprise came through Jenna. She had quietly done some digging and discovered that Natalie had just paid 70,000 dollars for a princess-themed children’s party two days after telling me she couldn’t spare even 5,000. My father, who had lectured me about untouchable retirement savings, had bought a new TV. My mother had remodeled the guest bathroom. Brandon had posted a photo from a casino in Atlantic City.
Every excuse had a receipt.
I decided to invite them to my apartment that Sunday. I told them I had news about my job. They all accepted quickly, probably expecting me to say I would stop bothering them. Ellen arrived first, carrying sweet rolls and a knowing expression. Before the doorbell rang, she asked:
“Are you going to tell them about the lottery?”
I looked at the folder filled with screenshots, old bank transfers, and the list of money I had given them over ten years: 418,600 dollars.
“Not yet.”
“Then what are you going to do?”
I took a deep breath.
“I’m going to show them what they look like when they think I’m no longer useful.”
The doorbell rang. My family had arrived dressed to judge me. They had no idea that, that afternoon, I wasn’t going to ask for help. I was going to take away their victim act.
Hello, dear readers! If you are ready to read the final part, let me know in the comments section, and I will send it right away. May God always grant you health and happiness!
My living room had never held so many people who believed they mattered more than everyone else. My mother Patricia arrived with Paul and an expensive bag I didn’t recognize. My father Robert arrived with Beatrice, his wife, who greeted me while scanning my apartment as if she were calculating the value of every piece of furniture. Natalie entered with her surgeon husband and an expression of fake patience. Brandon arrived late, smelling of cigarettes and cheap cologne. Aunt Marjorie sat down without taking off her sunglasses. Ellen stood near the window, quiet, with her empty envelope tucked inside her bag.
