I was in a horrific accident and left unconscious. The doctors called my parents—they said…

Then I pulled out my phone and opened the document where I’d saved the final version. Dear Richard and Margaret, I began reading. I’m addressing you by your first names because mom and dad no longer feels truthful.

Parents protect their children. Parents put their children’s needs above their own. You have done neither.

By the time you read this, you will have already tried to declare me incompetent. You will have already filed paperwork to control the inheritance grandmother Martha left me. You will have already begun crafting a narrative that paints you as concerned parents and me as an ungrateful daughter.

Let me save you the effort. I am alive despite your best efforts. The doctors at Massachusetts General Hospital have documented your refusal to authorize my treatment.

The security cameras captured your exact words. She’s not our real daughter. We owe her nothing.

For 28 years, I have tried to earn your love. I achieved academic excellence. I built a successful company.

I did everything possible to make you proud. It was never enough because I was never enough. Not your blood, not your real daughter.

Grandmother Martha left me a letter explaining everything. My birth mother was her niece Caroline. The adoption was legal and binding despite what you told the hospital staff.

I’ve included copies of all relevant documentation. I’ve also included a USB drive with the hospital security footage. It will be submitted as evidence should you continue your attempts to control my inheritance or claim guardianship over me.

This letter isn’t about revenge. It’s about truth. The truth that you couldn’t love me as I deserve to be loved.

The truth that when I needed you most, you chose to walk away. I forgive you. Not because you deserve forgiveness, but because I deserve peace.

I release you from any obligation to me, and I release myself from any obligation to you. I no longer need your approval, your acknowledgement, or your love. I am whole without you, Rebecca Mitchell.

P.S. The locks have been changed, and this house is legally mine. Please direct any future communications to my attorney, James Wright. When I finished reading, Alison was crying silently.

That’s the most honest thing I’ve ever heard, she whispered. And the saddest. I put my phone away.

It needed to be said. They called me six times yesterday. Left voicemails about how worried they are about you, how they want to help with your recovery.

She shook her head in disgust. It’s like they live in an alternate reality. They do, I agreed.

One where they’re always the heroes of the story. What happens now, she asked. With the inheritance? With the guardianship claim? James is handling it.

The hospital footage alone should sink their case. After that, I shrugged. I move on.

I build a life without the minute. And me. Her voice was small.

Is there room in that life for me? I studied my sister. My biological half-sister, as it turned out. The golden child who had benefited from our parents’ favoritism her entire life.

But also the woman sitting before me now, choosing truth over comfort. Choosing me over them. I don’t know yet, I said honestly.

There’s a lot of history between us, Alison. A lot of hurt. I understand.

She nodded, wiping away tears. But I’d like to try, if you’re willing. I thought of Grandmother Martha’s letter.

A family being those who love you, not necessarily those who share your blood. Small steps, I finally said. We start small and see where it goes.

The relief on her face was palpable. Small steps. I can do that.

We finished our coffees, talking cautiously about neutral topics Her residency at Boston General. My company’s latest projects. It wasn’t comfortable yet, but it was civil.

A beginning of sorts. As predicted, my parents escalated their efforts after finding the letter. They called everyone they knew in the legal community, trying to find a judge who would grant their conservatorship request.

They attempted to access my medical records, claiming parental rights. They even tried to contact my doctors directly. None of it worked…