A 19-year-old girl was left all alone when, right after her father’s funeral, her stepmother kicked her out of the house …

Right after her father’s funeral, her stepmother threw 19-year-old Tracy out into the cold without any money. The girl thought she was completely alone, but her loving dad had made sure to provide for her future in such a situation. The grey winter sky weighed heavily on her shoulders.

Tracy stood by the freshly dug grave, not feeling the bone-chilling wind. Next to her, in a black shawl covering half her face, stood her stepmother, Miranda. The woman occasionally brought a handkerchief to her eyes, but Tracy didn’t see a single tear on her face.

We are bidding farewell to Andrew Brown, a loving father, caring husband, talented entrepreneur, the priest’s voice sounded, but Tracy barely heard it. One thought was spinning in her mind, Dad is gone. This simple thought couldn’t settle in the consciousness of the 19-year-old girl.

Stay strong, dear, Miranda whispered in her ear, lightly putting an arm around her shoulders. Your father was a strong man. He would want you to be strong too.

At these words, tears welled up in Tracy’s eyes. Yes, her father always taught her to be strong. Life is not only about joy, Tracy, he used to say.

But whatever happens, you must never lose yourself. The funeral ended. Her father’s business colleagues, neighbors, distant relatives, all came up to Tracy to offer their condolences.

Many spoke about what a wonderful person Andrew Brown was, how much he loved his daughter, and how proud he was of her. Tracy nodded mechanically, not understanding how to live now without his support and love. Let’s go home, Miranda said when everyone had left.

We need to discuss a lot. The ride home was silent. Tracy looked out the car window at the snowy streets of her hometown rushing by and remembered how her father used to take her sledding in the park when she was a child.

He was so happy with her success in school and dance. Then, three years ago, Miranda appeared in their lives, a bright, striking businesswoman whom her father met at some conference. Tracy sighed.

She never felt warm feelings toward her stepmother, but there was no open hostility between them, at least until today. Entering the apartment, Tracy immediately felt something was wrong. In the hallway stood two large bags and a battered suitcase.

What’s this, she asked, taking off her coat. Miranda went into the living room, sat down in an armchair, and for the first time that day her face took on a meaningful expression. These are your things, she said calmly.

I packed everything. My things? Tracy repeated, confused. Why? Because it’s time for you to move out, Miranda replied, lighting a cigarette.

You’re already 19, a grown-up girl. It’s time to start living on your own. Tracy froze, not believing her ears.

What do you mean move out? This is my apartment. Mine and dad’s was. Your dad’s was your dad’s, Miranda corrected her.

But now your dad is gone, and the apartment belongs to me. I have the documents to prove it. Your father transferred it to me before he died.

That can’t be. Tracy exclaimed, feeling a chill run down her spine. Dad would never do that…