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My billionaire grandfather left me everything, a mansion and $8 million. My parents who abandoned me 19 years ago suddenly showed up at the will reading. We're Your guardians? They smirked, but when my lawyer came in, they turned pale. The leather on the armchair in my tiny apartment was peeling just like the cheap wallpaper, but it was mine..., #redditreadings #reddit #redditgeschichten #redditstories #askreddit That was my motto. Self-made, self-sustained. I was 28, a freelance designer and perfectly content with my hard fought independence. Then the phone rang, a clipped formal voice, introduced himself as Harold Sterling, executive of the estate of Arthur Sterling. My heart didn't skip a beat, it stopped dead. I regret to inform you that your grandfather, Arthur Sterling, recently passed away. He said his tone colder than a granite tomb. My grandfather, a man I had never known, never even heard of. Then came the gut punch that dissolved my carefully constructed reality. You miss Olivia Sterling are the sole beneficiary of his entire estate. I felt a toxic wave of excitement and dread an estate worth hundreds of millions. The very next sentence chilled me to the bone. I must also inform you that certain other family members have expressed interest in the proceedings. Namely your parents. The parents who abandoned me 19 years ago were suddenly back in my orbit. They weren't coming for closure. They were coming for the cash. I knew this was not going to be a simple inheritance. It was going to be a war. The memory of the phone call kept me wide awake for nights, forcing open the mental door. I'd slammed shut 19 years earlier. I was nine years old when James and Sarah Winters, my biological parents, decided I was excess baggage. They weren't addicts, they were hustlers. Their life wasn't about stability. It was about the next score, the next pyramid scheme, the next insurance fraud payout. They dragged me across three states living out of cheap motel and eating takeout. The hushed frantic arguments weren't about gambling debts. They were about how to cover their tracks before the law caught up. The day they abandoned me remains a vivid, painful snapshot. It was a cold Tuesday evening in Oklahoma. My mother, Sarah told me we were playing a game. We're going to hide sweetie, and you have to wait for us right here. If anyone asks you don't know us. She deposited me on a faded bench outside a sterile red brick building the local children's home. My father James gave me a cheap plastic watch. When the big hand hits the 12, well be back. He promised his eyes completely empty. I watched their beat up sedan disappear down the street, clinging to that flimsy promise. The big hand hit the 12, then the one, then the two. They never came back for the next nine years. The foster system was my world. Instability was the air I breathed. I was determined to be invisible, to require nothing from anyone. But then when I was 15, I landed with Helen. She wasn't a hero in a mansion. She was a quiet, retired school teacher living in a modest house filled with the smell of cinnamon and old books. Helen never asked about, my parents never pressured me to cry, but she demanded effort. She taught me to channel my anger into my studies and my creative energy into design. Your circumstances were chosen by them. Olivia, she would say, tapping my workbook, but your future is chosen only by you. Helen was my rock, my first and only anchor in a world that had tried to float me away. When I turned 18, I was financially and emotionally ready to step into the world. Thanks entirely to her. Now, standing on the brink of this fortune, I knew the betrayal of my childhood was about to be weaponized by the very people who inflicted it...,