My grandpa saw me going in and out of a shelter and shouted, but

“This is just… well, our luck turning around. Life’s not so bad after all.”

I lost interest and headed for my room.

They probably got the money from our parents again.

What I didn’t know—what I couldn’t have known—was that among the documents they’d hidden was a property deed with my name on it.

And that the wonderful new house Ashley was so excited about was the very house my grandfather had given me.

The verdict came abruptly the week after my birthday.

“I’ll get straight to the point. We’re moving out of this apartment at the end of the month,” my father said in a business-like tone after dinner.

“Moving out? Where are you going?”

“We’re moving to Ashley’s new house,” my mother continued.

“It’s a wonderful place. We’ll all live together and help take care of the grandchildren.”

Ashley snorted smugly.

“That’s right. There are plenty of rooms. In exchange for taking care of Mom and Dad in their old age, we prepared spacious rooms for them.”

“How did you even afford something like that?”

“That’s none of your concern,” my father cut in sharply.

“What is important is this: there’s no room for you there.”

It felt as though time itself had stopped.

“What do you mean?”

“Exactly what it sounds like. That house is a sanctuary for Ashley’s family. You’re 20 now, aren’t you? Don’t you think it’s shameful for an adult daughter to keep leeching off her parents?”

“Leeching? I pay my own tuition and living expenses! If anything, the ones leeching are Ashley and her husband!”

“Watch your mouth!”

My father roared.

“Your sister has just seized a major opportunity in life! And instead of celebrating her, all you can think about is yourself and where you’ll live! How selfish can you be?”

“Selfish? You’re telling me I’m losing my home!”

“That’s why we’re telling you to become independent,” my mother said, her voice gentle but her eyes cold.

“Take this as your chance to start living on your own. You’ll be out by this weekend. Pack your things and leave. We won’t tell you our new address. This is tough love, so you won’t come crawling back. Try to understand our intentions as parents.”

Parental love? How could they even bring themselves to use such a word?

Their true intentions were painfully obvious: they no longer needed the money I earned.

That weekend, I left the apartment with two suitcases stuffed with everything I owned and a single backpack.

My family had already moved their belongings out and left without me.

With nowhere else to go, I eventually ended up at a student transitional housing facility on the outskirts of town.

Nights there were never quiet.

Coughing echoed from every direction.

Moans from people trapped in nightmares.

The stench of bleach mixed with mold hung in the air.

I was forced to provide a urine sample with the bathroom door open right in front of a supervisor.

I bit my lip until it bled, holding back tears as I complied.

I was a future medical professional.

I had never once touched drugs, and yet in that place, I was nothing more than a number under supervision.

At night, I slept clutching my backpack to my chest like a baby.

Inside were my expensive medical textbooks and the little cash I had left.

Even shoes were stolen there, so I tied my sneaker laces around my wrists before crawling into bed.

At 5:00 a.m., we were shaken awake.

After cleaning duties, I changed into my white clinical uniform in a public restroom near the station.

That was where Kelly, the diligent and outstanding nursing student, existed.

One rainy day, shaking with a high fever in the transitional housing facility, I scrolled through social media on my phone.

A photo posted by Ashley appeared.

In a spacious, modern living room, the whole family stood smiling, glasses raised, gathered around a glowing fireplace.

The caption read: “Our first party in our new home! Grateful for the best family ever.”

Through the window behind them, I could see the beautiful night view of the Riverside District.

Why was I shivering in a moldy bed while they warmed themselves by a fireplace?

I cried until I had no tears left, burning with frustration and injustice.

And then the next morning, as I staggered out of the transitional housing facility, my grandfather Frank’s car was waiting right in front of me.

When I finished telling him everything, the feared Iron Man Frank covered his face with both hands, his shoulders shaking as he cried.

“I’m sorry. I was a fool. I trusted your parents too much.”

He wiped his tears and looked at me with eyes full of resolve.

“Kelly, listen carefully. That house Ashley is living in, the one in Riverside—I bought it with my own money and registered it in your name. It is your house.”

“What?”

“The deed and the keys were entrusted to your parents through my lawyer. I told them it was a surprise for you. They stole it, deceived you, and even drove you out.”

A cold chill ran down my spine.

That house, the one Ashley had bragged about as being worthy of them, was mine.

“That can’t be true.”

“It is, and I’ll prove it.”

My grandfather placed me in a luxury hotel suite and made sure I ate properly.

While I rested, he called my mother, Grace.

“Dad, how’s the business in South America?”

Her syrupy voice came through the speaker.

“Going well. By the way, how is Kelly doing? I haven’t been able to reach her.”

“Oh, she’s doing great! She’s enjoying living on her own in an apartment near her school. She said she wants to focus on her studies, so she asked us not to contact her too much.”

A lie.

They didn’t even know where I was.

“I see. Actually, it looks like I’ll be able to come home this Christmas. I was hoping we could all gather as a family.”

“Really? That’s wonderful! Then you must come to the new house!”

“Oh, a new house? That sounds delightful. Kelly will be there too, I assume?”

“Of course! Yes, I’ll invite her.”

Another lie.

After ending the call, my grandfather spoke coldly.

“You heard that, Kelly? They wouldn’t care even if you were dead as long as their lies weren’t exposed.”

He stood and gazed out the window.

“I’ve already contacted my lawyers. Property records, transfer histories—everything will be examined. And then, Christmas…”

He turned back to me and smiled gently.

“Until then, rest here. And on Christmas, you’ll wear the finest dress and return with me to your house.”

The Final Trial on Christmas Eve

On Christmas Eve night, I wore a deep crimson velvet dress my grandfather had chosen for me.

“You’re beautiful, Kelly. This is who you were always meant to be.”

We stepped into the waiting limousine, and then we headed toward the Riverside District.

Soon the car stopped in front of a grand estate with an imposing gate.

There it was: the house I had dreamed of.

A beautiful brick exterior, but hanging on the front door was a tasteless wreath that read, “Welcome to the Smith family.”

“Are you ready?”

“Yes, I’m ready.”

My grandfather rang the doorbell.

From inside came my mother’s cheerful voice.

“Coming! It must be the pizza delivery!”

The door opened.

“Merry Chris—”

The smile that had been spread across my mother’s face froze instantly.

Standing in front of her were the father who was supposedly in South America and the daughter who was supposed to be missing.