When I was pregnant, my younger sister Stacy—always the golden child—betrayed me by stealing my husband, Henry. Growing up, I was overlooked by our parents, despite doing everything right. Stacy was the star; I was invisible—except to my grandmother, the only one who truly saw me.
She supported me through college and life. I thought I found love in Henry, but Grandma had doubts. Turns out, she was right—he cheated, and not just once. One day, I came home early and caught him in bed with Stacy.
My world fell apart. Henry blamed me, Stacy gloated, and I was kicked out of the house I helped build. I returned to Grandma’s, heartbroken and pregnant. She welcomed me without hesitation. When she revealed she was dying, I was crushed, but I stayed by her side until the end.
She passed before meeting her great-grandchild. At her funeral, my family showed up—including Stacy and Henry, both looking defeated. Later, Grandma’s will named me and my child as her only heirs. My family exploded with rage, but I felt peace. She had always believed in me.
Weeks later, Stacy showed up, begging for help. Henry had cheated on her too. They were broke and homeless. She asked to stay with me. I refused.
For once, I chose myself.