After I refused to give my mom my inheritance, she invited me to a family meeting…

It’s smaller, but nice enough. She hesitated. Jason’s room is still untouched.

She won’t admit it, but I think she’s hoping he’ll come back. Has she reached out to him? Rachel shook her head. Her pride won’t let her.

Not yet, anyway. She took a deep breath. I owe you an apology, Amber.

I said terrible things. I believed Mom when she said you’d manipulated Grandpa. You were protecting her, I acknowledged.

I understand loyalty. It wasn’t just loyalty. Her voice dropped.

I was jealous. You were always Grandpa’s favorite, and I resented that. When the will was read, she trailed off, blinking back tears.

It felt like final confirmation. I finished for her. She nodded.

But these past weeks, watching Mom spiral, seeing how she’s handling things. I’ve been thinking about why Grandpa made the choice he did. And I get it now.

This admission, so unexpected, left me momentarily speechless. I’m not asking for money, Rachel clarified quickly. That’s not why I wanted to meet.

I just… I miss my sister. And I miss Jason. Mom’s determined to cut you both off forever, but I can’t do that.

I reached across the table, offering my hand. After a moment’s hesitation, she took it. Family is complicated, I said.

But it doesn’t have to be all or nothing. That meeting marked the beginning of a careful reconciliation with Rachel. We agreed to keep our contact private for now, protecting her from our mother’s anger while leaving the door open for eventual healing.

It was a small step, but a significant one. Meanwhile, the legal aspects of the inheritance were finally settling. Samantha helped me establish three separate trusts, an educational fund for Jason, a modest monthly stipend for my mother.

Despite her continued hostility, I couldn’t bring myself to cut her off completely. And a charitable foundation in my grandfather’s name focused on entrepreneurship education for underprivileged youth. The foundation particularly would have pleased him.

Throughout his life, he’d mentored young people with business aspirations, but limited resources, offering jobs, advice, and occasionally financial backing. Formalizing this support into a structured program felt like the perfect tribute. Six months after grandpa’s passing, I finally moved into his house, our house now.

It was a practical decision. My apartment was too small for both Jason and me long-term, and maintaining two residences made little financial sense. Still, those first nights sleeping in the master bedroom, surrounded by subtle reminders of his presence, were emotionally charged…