I am Elaine, 28 years old, and yesterday I became a millionaire. My aunt Vivien left me everything. Two million dollars, her Victorian mansion, and her business shares. I was still processing my grief when they walked in. My parents, the same ones who abandoned me fifteen years ago without a goodbye. They smiled like no time had passed.
“We are your guardians,” my mother announced sweetly. Then my lawyer entered the room and their faces turned ghostly pale.
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I remember a time when my life was normal until I turned thirteen. I lived in a modest two-bedroom apartment with parents who seemed to love me. Dad worked as a sales manager at a local car dealership, and Mom taught third grade at the elementary school nearby. We were not rich, but we had enough—Friday movie nights with microwave popcorn, summer camping trips in our secondhand tent, Christmas mornings with hot chocolate and cinnamon rolls.
