My mother squeezed my wrist before reading the will and whispered, “If you receive a single dollar, I’ll destroy you”… but when the lawyer opened another file, the entire courtroom discovered who had locked my grandmother up and why.

That was my grandmother Pearl, the woman who picked me up from school when my mother had other commitments. She was the one who taught me to bake without measuring and told me never to let anyone make me feel small.

My mother could never stand that I loved Pearl more than her, and the next morning when I tried to call back, Miranda answered. “My mother is resting and you are not to call again,” she said before hanging up on me.

I called eleven more times that week, but I was met with voicemail or my mother hanging up immediately. On the eighth day, I drove to my grandmother’s house in the old historic district where the porch light was mysteriously off.

I knocked until Travis, my mother’s husband, appeared and blocked the doorway with his arms crossed. “Your mother said she cannot have any visitors right now,” he blurted out.

“She is my grandmother and I just want to see her for five minutes,” I pleaded. “Do not add any more stress to her condition,” he replied before slamming the door in my face.