Chapter 3

I felt sick. "He wasn't worried about you."

"He was worried about his supply." Grandma's voice was very quiet. "That's when I realized... this family would literally drain me dry and never feel guilty about it."

"That's horrible."

"That's when I knew I had to do something. Not just for me, but for you."

I looked at her with new understanding. This wasn't just about revenge. This was about breaking a cycle.

"For me?"

"Sage, you're sixteen. Same age as Brayden. But look at the difference. He sees people as resources to be used. You see people as... people."

She was right. Even as kids, Brayden and I were different. When he wanted something, he'd take it. When I wanted something, I'd ask, or go without. When he got in trouble, he'd blame others. When I made mistakes, I took responsibility.

"I realized that if I didn't break this cycle, you'd either become like them, or they'd destroy you the way they destroyed me."

"So what are you going to do?"

Grandma walked to the kitchen window, looking out at the darkness.

"Tomorrow, we're going to New York. We'll meet my real family. And everyone will see what happens when you give greedy people exactly what they ask for."

The way she said that... it didn't sound like generosity. It sounded like a threat.

"Grandma, you're scaring me."

She turned around, and that dangerous smile completely disappeared. Instead, I saw the loving woman who'd raised me, who'd protected me as much as she could in this toxic household.

"Don't be scared, sweetheart. I won't hurt anyone who doesn't deserve it. But those who do deserve it..."

She didn't finish the sentence.

"What about me? What happens to me?"

"You, my darling girl, are going to have the life I never got. Education, choices, freedom. I'll make sure of it."

The conversation was winding down, but I could see the exhaustion finally catching up with both of us.

"I should try to sleep," I said, but I knew I wouldn't be able to.

"Sage?"

"Yes?"

"Whatever happens tomorrow, and in the days after, remember this: I love you. Not because you're useful to me, not because you serve me, but because you're you. You're the best thing that came out of these fifty-five terrible years."

I wanted to cry. In this family, love always came with conditions. You were loved if you were quiet, if you were helpful, if you didn't cause problems. But Grandma... she loved me just for existing.

"I love you too, Grandma."

"Good. Now go try to sleep. Tomorrow, everything changes."

I walked back to my room, but I stopped in the doorway.

"Grandma?"

"Yes?"

"Whatever your plan is... I trust you."

She smiled, and this time it wasn't dangerous. It was grateful.

"Thank you, sweetheart. That means everything to me."

I lay on my bed, watching the sky slowly lighten outside my small window.

I hardly slept, but at seven in the morning I could hear activity outside. Looking through my window, I saw three black cars parked outside our trailer park community, looking completely out of place among the rusted mailboxes and potted weeds.

"Sage, honey, time to get up," Grandma knocked gently on my door. "We need to be ready in an hour."

When I opened the door, Grandma was already dressed up. Not in anything fancy, but she was wearing her best dress with her hair neatly pulled back. Most importantly, she was standing straight.

"Grandma, you look... different."

"I feel different," she said, and her voice had that new strength from last night. "Today we meet my real family."

Real family. The concept still made me dizzy. For fifty-five years, I'd thought the Johnsons were our family. Now I was about to learn what real family actually looked like.

The rest of the house was complete chaos. Earl was trying to find clean clothes, Daryl was arguing with Brandi about what to wear, and Brayden was still in his pajamas playing games.

"This is our chance!" Brandi kept saying, applying makeup with shaking hands. "We need to make a good first impression!"

"First impressions, hell," Earl grunted, buttoning a shirt that was definitely not clean. "They owe us. Thirty-eight years I've been supporting their daughter."

Supporting? I wanted to laugh. The only person who'd been supporting anyone was Grandma.

Daryl emerged from his room wearing a wrinkled suit that smelled like motor oil. "Mom, you better tell them how valuable I am to the family business."

"What family business?" I muttered.

"Hey," Brayden finally looked up from his phone, "are we gonna have our own jet? I saw this YouTuber who has a jet."

Grandma watched all this with that new calmness of hers. "Everyone ready?" she asked, like she was organizing a school field trip instead of meeting billionaires.

The cars took us to a tiny airport I didn't even know existed. A sleek white jet was waiting with "Ravenscroft Industries" written on the side in elegant letters.

"Holy shit," Daryl whispered, then louder, "Sorry, I mean, holy cow."

A uniformed man approached Grandma. "Ms. Ravenscroft? I'm Captain Williams. We're honored to have you aboard."

Grandma smiled graciously. "Thank you, Captain. Please, call me Magnolia."

As we boarded, I watched each family member's reaction. Earl immediately started examining everything, probably calculating its value. Daryl took selfies with the interior, already posting on social media. Brandi was filming everything, narrating like she was a travel influencer. Brayden flopped into a leather seat and immediately asked, "Do you have WiFi? I need to finish this raid."

And Grandma? She sat down like she belonged there.

An hour into the flight, a flight attendant brought us lunch. Real food, not airplane peanuts. Earl and Daryl were already on their second drinks.

"So Maggie," Earl said, now completely drunk on free alcohol, "when we get there, I think I should do most of the talking. As your husband, I mean."

"Of course," Grandma said smoothly. "I'm sure they'll be very interested in hearing from you."

Brandi was taking pictures of her meal. "This is so bougie! Wait till my followers see this!"

"How many followers you got?" Brayden asked without looking up from his Switch.

"Almost two hundred!" Brandi said proudly.

I caught Grandma's eye across the aisle. She gave me the tiniest smile, and I realized she was mentally cataloging every ridiculous thing they said.

When we landed at a private airfield, more black cars were waiting. As we drove through Manhattan, I pressed my face to the window. Buildings that reached the sky, people everywhere dressed in expensive clothes, stores I'd only seen in magazines. This was a different planet from Pine Ridge.

"Look at all these rich people," Earl said, looking out his window. "We're gonna fit right in."

Fit right in? Earl in his worn-out shirt and scuffed shoes? Daryl smelling like motor oil? Brandi with her Target makeup? We looked like exactly what we were: poor people playing dress-up.

But Grandma... she looked like she was coming home.

The car stopped in front of a four-story townhouse that looked like something from a movie. A doorman in uniform opened the car doors.

"Welcome home, Ms. Ravenscroft," he said to Grandma, and I saw her eyes fill with tears.

"Thank you," she whispered.

We walked up marble steps into an entrance hall with a chandelier that probably cost more than our entire trailer. Earl whistled low.

"Now this is what I'm talking about," he said, running his hand along a wooden banister. "Real class."

Then I heard voices from upstairs, and an elderly couple descended the staircase. Harrison Ravenscroft was tall and distinguished, with silver hair and kind eyes. Victoria was elegant, wearing a simple but expensive dress, jewelry that looked understated but probably cost a fortune.

But when they saw Grandma, everything else disappeared.

"Magnolia," Victoria whispered, and I could hear fifty-five years of missing her daughter in that one word.

"My baby girl," Harrison said, his voice breaking.

Grandma walked toward them, and suddenly she wasn't the tired woman from the trailer. She moved with grace, with dignity. When they embraced, it was like watching something sacred.

This is what love looks like. Real love. Not the demanding, conditional love of the Johnson family, but pure, unconditional love.

"We never stopped looking," Victoria said through tears. "Never stopped believing we'd find you."

"I know," Grandma said. "I'm here now."

The moment was beautiful until Earl cleared his throat loudly.

"Well, this is real nice and all," he said, "but maybe we should talk business? I mean, I'm Maggie's husband. Been taking care of her for thirty-eight years."

Harrison's kind eyes turned cold as he looked at Earl.

"Taking care of her?" Harrison repeated slowly.

"Yeah, you know, providing for her, giving her a home, that sort of thing."

Providing? The only thing Earl had provided was abuse and neglect.

Victoria stepped forward, and I could see she was trying very hard to be polite. "And you are?"

"Earl Johnson. Maggie's husband. This here's my son Daryl, his wife Brandi, and my grandson Brayden."

Daryl immediately stepped forward with what he probably thought was a business-like manner. "Mr. and Mrs. Ravenscroft, I'm very interested in discussing opportunities within your company. I have extensive experience in... in automotive repair and... business development."

Business development? He could barely develop the motivation to shower.

Just then, another person entered the room. A woman about Grandma's age, but she looked ten years younger. Perfectly dressed, confident, successful. This had to be the fake daughter.