“That’s business,” Vanessa said. “Decide now.”
Lily picked up the envelope. “This is a lot of money.”
My heart squeezed.
“But you know what’s funny?” she said, standing tall. “We’ve never needed it.”
Grace joined her. “We had a father who stayed. Who loved us.”
“We don’t want your money,” Lily finished. “We don’t want you.”
She ripped the envelope open and tossed the money into the air like confetti.
“We’re not for sale.”
Vanessa erupted into insults, but it didn’t matter. Grace opened the door. “Leave.”
Vanessa stormed out, grabbing whatever money she could.
That night, the video of the confrontation went viral—Lily’s best friend had recorded everything. Vanessa’s image collapsed instantly. She lost roles, her agent, her credibility.
Meanwhile, something real happened.
A prestigious film program offered Lily and Grace full scholarships for costume design. Not because of pity—because of their talent.
Yesterday, I watched them work on set, confident and brilliant.
The director told me, “Your daughters are exceptional.”
“I’m the lucky one,” I replied.
That night, we ate takeout in our tiny apartment, laughing.
We had everything that mattered.